Inspiring the Creation
by Bright Yellow Bumblebee
Summary: Nine Greek muses. Nine Seigaku members. Coincidence? I think not
1. Prologue

Ok, ok.

Before you get out the flaming torches and pitchforks, my hands are up in supplication. I know it's been, what, nine months? since my last update and I'm not even giving you the next instalment of "The Psi Gene" but please forgive me. Work has dominated my life for most of that time and the rest was spent sleeping.

I have written chapters 19 and 20 of "The Psi Gene" but I want to edit them some more before I publish them.

In the mean time, enjoy this new story. I'm going to post the first three chapters and then it will be updated weekly. Hopefully this will delay the lynch mob for a few weeks. ;)

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><p>Blanket disclaimer for the fic since I will invariably forget to do it in every chapter: I don't own PoT.<p>

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><p>Everything has an inspiration. That one thing that triggers an action; the impulse, the spark. The cause of this inspiration can be termed a muse. A muse is an embodiment of inspiration. It can be a person, an object or a belief, but it is the source of inspiration.<p>

Muses inspire creation.

In Greek mythology there are nine.

The eldest, Calliope, muse of epic poetry.

The second, Clio, muse of history.

The third, Erato, muse of lyrical poetry.

The fourth, Euterpe, muse of music and elegiac poetry.

The fifth, Melpomene, muse of tragedy.

The sixth, Polyhymnia, muse of hymns, speech and geometry.

The seventh, Terpsichore, muse of dance.

The eighth, Thalia, muse of comedy.

The youngest, Urania, muse of the stars and future.

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><p>Nine muses.<p>

Nine Seigaku members.

Coincidence? I think not.

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><p>Next chapter: Calliope's Epic<p>

R&R

Bumble


	2. Calliope's Epic

Calliope, the muse of epic poetry

Inspiration: Lord of the Rings.

Seigaku: Come on, doesn't Tezuka just fit this? Traditional, gentlemanly, heroic (especially in the Nationals OVA) and he could totally be the star of an epic.

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><p>"Heroes, enter!" came the booming voice from above the stone corridor where Tezuka Kunimitsu was stood with eight other people whom he'd never met before. One month prior, Queen Ryuuzaki had released a missive to all the heroes of the land. She had a challenge for them to complete and they would be heavily rewarded for their efforts.<p>

He and the others proceeded to walk down to where the voice had echoed from and entered the grand dining hall of the Queen. She sat at the opposite end of the room on her gilded throne, her granddaughter's empty but by her side and her advisors seated along the edges of the long, slightly solemn hall.

"You have all responded to my calls and for this, I thank you," Queen Ryuuzaki began, her piercing eyes focussing on all of them in turn. When she looked at Tezuka, he could see the royalty in her gaze, as well as her professionalism and stoicism. Underneath was a glimmer of despair and a glimpse of hope.

"You may not be aware, but the Princess, my granddaughter, was kidnapped one month ago. She was taken by the exiled traitor Sasabe. I am challenging you to retrieve her, alive and as unharmed as possible. You shall each be rewarded 1000 guineas (1) for the successful completion of this task."

Her advisors looked shocked at their Queen and began to voice their disapproval at the reward money. She turned to them, with a glare that could peel the colour from her marble walls and hissed, in a tone Tezuka had only ever heard from a wyvern (2). "This is my granddaughter and the heir apparent to the throne. She _deserves_ that amount of reward. I shall hear nothing to the contrary." Their objections were instantly smothered under her icy gaze and none dared to speak up against her imperial manner.

Satisfied that her advisors would remain silent, for now, she turned back to the heroes she had gathered, pinning them under her stare. "You all are rumoured to have special skills that have helped you become the most successful heroes in all of Seigaku, so I am counting on you to succeed," she stood from her throne and looked down at them from upon her dais.

"God speed gentlemen."

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><p>It was when they were in the middle of a clearing in the forest on the first night that they did their introductions properly. They were seated around a small fire, the crackles of the flames filling their ears and the warmth heating their cold fingers. None of them complained about the temperature of the night, as they were all probably used to it, but the fire was welcomed by all.<p>

They were seated in a circle and Tezuka was sat next to one of the brunets and one of the raven haired champions. Everyone's features were shadowed and lit only by the melancholic glow of the fire; orange hues danced across their faces and their cheeks became rosy with the heat, as meagre as it was.

They sat in silence and their own personal musings until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoed loudly throughout the still glade. Eyes of different shades flashed towards the sound and Tezuka noted that at least half of the others reached for some kind of weapon. Tezuka himself had inched his left hand down to his ankle where a small dagger was sequestered in his deer-skinned boot.

The unfortunate person who decided it had been too silent for too long seemed to be regretting his decision to break it. He was now looking down the shaft of an arrow, had the firelight reflecting off the surface of at least three metallic weapons of varying types and even had a vial of oddly shaded liquid threateningly uncorked. The tall raven haired male flushed badly and tried to shrink in on himself, like a turtle Tezuka had once seen on a beach in the Hyoutei Kingdom.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle anyone. I just thought we should find out a little about one another before we set off on the journey," he apologised in a soft voice. There was a smattering of agreement around the fire, but no-one wanted to start. It wasn't easy to tell a group of strangers about yourself.

"I'll start, shall I," he continued, with a soft smile. "My name is Oishi Syuuichiro and I'm a healer. I don't have many offensive skills, but I can heal anyone who gets injured along the way."

Spurred on by Oishi getting the ball rolling, everyone seemed much more willing to take part.

"I'm Kikumaru Eiji, nya," the redhead with the blue eyes said. "My specialty is, well…" he trailed off but for an answer, he took several items out of his pockets. There was a collection of daggers and a few phials of liquid. Tezuka also noted his money pouch amongst the spoils, which alarmed him slightly as he always carried his pouch in his boot.

The others reached forward to retrieve their belongings from the pile next to the hearth, some sparing glares at the shamefaced Eiji. The next person to reveal their identity was the tall raven haired one who was wearing some spectacles that previously Tezuka had only seen worn by the Rikkaidai advisor.

"Inui Sadaharu. I deal in apothecary and poisons," Tezuka was unable to see his eyes as the firelight reflected ominously on the thick lenses of his eyeglasses. "I am also adept at research."

"Kaidoh Kaoru," the one wearing the cloth over his hair began, "and my field is interrogation."

"Any good at it?" Eiji asked and he received a glare and a hiss in return. Everyone around the fire felt a little shiver run down their spines at the sound but none admitted it.

"Momoshiro Takeshi, call me Momo," the introductions resumed and the raven haired with the violet eyes spoke up. "I'm a fighter. Mostly bare knuckled but I have a little skill with broad swords."

"I'm a fighter as well," the timid looking brunet spoke up. "I'm Kawamura Takashi. I fight mostly with long range weapons. I brought some pikes and spears with me." Tezuka noted absently that he didn't look like a usual pike or spear fighter. They tended to have a fierce look about them, whereas Kawamura looked relatively harmless. Relatively for this group.

"Saa, I suppose it's my turn then? Fuji Syuusuke," the shorter brunet with the brilliant blue eyes purred. "I specialise in reconnaissance and assassinations. I infiltrate courts well but I am also skilled with daggers." He was the scariest one of the group by far.

All eyes turned to the last two to introduce themselves. Tezuka and the other exchanged glances, mentally asking each other to go first. The other heaved a sigh and gave up before Tezuka's face had even changed expression.

"Echizen Ryoma. Archer," he said in short clipped tones and was apparently finished with that.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu. Swordsman," he performed the final introduction and everyone relaxed slightly, knowing some of what the others were capable of.

"So," Inui spoke, a piece of parchment and a quill in front of him, poised and ready, "how are we going to go about this? We know what town Sasabe is in but how do we get the princess back?"

They spent the rest of the night planning their journey.

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><p>"We need information."<p>

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><p>It was a bustling market day when Kato Kachiro walked through town. He'd been given an errand by Master Sasabe to collect some vital items from one of the merchants and he was on his way back from the stall to the manor with his wares. He was being jostled by a number of people so he took no notice when he was bumped into a little harder than before. Unlike everyone else, the man that bumped into him actually stopped and apologised. He even paused to brush him down and make sure he was ok. Kato noted that he had a curious cadence to his speech and that he used the word "nya" a lot. He disregarded it as unimportant information though.<p>

He thought nothing more of it until he got back to the manor and found his package missing. He tried to remember what the man looked like but couldn't remember anything. He was at a loss.

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><p>"We need to discover where Sasabe has been and where he was going."<p>

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><p>Inui looked over the package with a careful eye. The contents were nothing special; a gaudy set of clothes for a party. The silken material was a colourful purple and was lined with fur. 'Mink,' he noted absently, running his fingers through it. There were a number of jewels sewn into the fabric, which Eiji had already asked if he could keep. The shoes that were also in the parcel were heeled leather with a brass buckle on the front. The kind only worn to elaborate parties.<p>

Simply from looking at the clothing, Inui could deduce they were clothes for a party. The garish mask included in the bundle hinted as a masque as opposed to the usual kind of party found in this area.

It took him less than an hour asking around the local tavern to find that the Sasabe's were throwing a party for the visiting nobles from Rokkaku.

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><p>"We need to get into that party."<p>

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><p>Fuji approached the luxurious manor doors with a proprietary air. Like he was king of the world and that the rest of the people present, despite their fancy clothing and perfect manners, were worthless. He was dressed to the nines and had endured much laughing from Momo about looking like a peacock. Fuji smiled evilly; he wasn't smiling now though, standing behind him as one of his valets (3). The other was Kawamura.<p>

He walked straight up to the doors, despite his lack of ticket. He was firm and steady in his walk and didn't pause when a redhead brushed past him to deposit a finely printed piece of parchment into his hand. He reached to door and produced his ticket to the valet on the door with a flourish. It was confirmed and he was allowed entry. He walked inside the opulent hall, paying no attention to the commotion behind him. Something about a lost ticket.

Fancy that.

Inside was mass of elegantly dressed women and smartly clothed men. All were wearing masks to obscure their identity, which only helped in Fuji's mission. He slid into the crowd and sidled up to a group of men, quickly picking up on the topic of conversation and adding his bit about the farming trade. He talked and talked, flattering ladies and complimenting men everywhere he went. He told little about himself but he managed to learn about the Sasabes easily. He learnt that they had received a "package" a month ago and no-one knew what it was. There was much speculation about the mysterious delivery that was kept in the basement of the manor.

Fuji smiled and left, taking a crystal glass of champagne with him.

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><p>"We need to get into that basement."<p>

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><p>Momo and Kawamura crept down the stairs, into the manor's labyrinth. They walked, even as the marble floor made way for the much less showy stone paving. The torch brackets on the wall became fewer in number and even fewer were actually lit. They were silent as they neared the basement.<p>

As they approached a corner, they carefully inched their heads around to see the two people standing guard in front of a locked door. They were stood at attention, with swords at their waists. Momo and Kawamura exchanged a look and Momo leapt out from behind the wall.

"Hello, good sirs," he began, "I don't suppose you could show me the way back to the ball, could you?"

The two guards simply responded by readying their swords and running towards him. Momo simply stood his ground and waited for them to get into reaching distance. When they neared, Momo reached for the guard on the right and ducked under his forward thrust. He felt the sword parting some of his hair but paid it no mind. Instead he rushed forward unfalteringly and punched the guard under his chin with his left hand. He used the time that he spent fumbling from his missed strike and punch to disarm him and he used the flat of the blade to knock him unconscious.

Whilst he was occupied with the guard on the right, Kawamura had leapt out from behind the corner and tackled the guard on the left. He delivered a devastatingly powerful punch to his jaw that left him on the floor in seconds. As a precaution, he took his sword as well.

Both of them bound the guards with the rope they brought with them and unlocked the door they were guarding. They prepared themselves to see the princess in the room, so when the only thing they found were barrels upon barrels of wine, they were confused and unprepared. What did they do now?

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><p>"We need to know where she is."<p>

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><p>The two guards woke up with splitting headaches and in an unknown location. They weren't bound to anything but they were in a cold stone room with only one entry. It was a thick wooden door that they had no chance of breaking. Not because it was heavy or impossible, but because of the threatening person sat in the only chair right in front of it. His cold grey eyes were fixed on them, unmoving and looking like he was hunting them. He hadn't moved an inch since they awoke, but his eyes were trained on them as they stood and moved back towards the wall.<p>

"You will tell me where the princess is," he hissed in a voice as cold as death, "or I will get angry."

He stood and slouched over to them, looming threateningly. "You wouldn't like it if I got angry."

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><p>"We need to get into that tower." (4)<p>

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><p>They were crouched outside the place where the guards had said the princess was being kept. Laid face down in the tall grasses, Tezuka glanced at those that had accompanied him for this stage. Echizen was to his left and Kawamura and Momo were on his right. Fuji was slinking somewhere in the background and Eiji was perched on a tree branch just in case. It helped to not be careless. As he always said: "Yūdan sezu ni ikō".<p>

He, Kawamura and Momo approached the tower, slinking in the grass so as not to be seen. As they got closer, they could see the large number of guards posted outside the tower, heavily concentrated around the only door, bolted and locked on the outside.

Tezuka didn't doubt that there would be more guards inside that would come running at the first sound of a commotion. It would take too long to tackle them all before getting the princess, but they had little other choice.

The three stood and charged at the guards. Tezuka and Momo had their respective blades and Kawamura was brandishing a spear with a ferocity not normally seen on his face. They easily cut down the first six guards whilst they were wondering what was happening. They aimed for non-vital areas, hoping not to kill them as they would make valuable witnesses for Sasabe's trial.

They were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that the other side offered. Tezuka lost sight of the other two and just had to trust in their abilities to defend themselves. He couldn't count how many blades he parried or how many thrusts and ripostes he delivered but he was tiring quickly. If this kept up, he wouldn't have the energy to tackle those inside the tower as well.

Just as he was worrying about this, the opponent he was fighting fell unexpectedly. He collapsed on his front with the shaft of an arrow protruding out of his back. In a flash, the others he, Kawamura and Momo were fighting fell in the same way. They glanced over to where Echizen had been laid to find him stood, unwavering in the breeze, his bow taut and poised to fire. He had three arrows cocked at once and let loose the volley, each one hitting its target successfully.

Tezuka wondered how skilled he truly was.

The outside was cleared and they regrouped momentarily before entering.

"They will be expecting us now," Tezuka noted dispassionately. He was met with silence and nods from the others until a voice spoke up. Aside from the introductions, he had yet to hear Echizen speak, so his voice came as a shock.

"They will be expecting us through the door."

The others thought about this carefully. "In order to keep her alive for at least a month, there would have to be one window," Tezuka said. Kawamura and Momo took this as a hint and sprinted around the circular tower. On the opposite side, there was a single window, at the top of the tower, open to the world.

It took Echizen less than ten minutes to rig one of his arrows with rope to let them climb up.

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><p>"We need to get the princess out."<p>

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><p>The room was plain and Spartan. By the time they had all climbed up Echizen's rope, they were crowded around the small window. The stone walls were cold and the bed looked uncomfortable, sheet less in the cold autumn nights. There was a small, huddled form on the bed, shivering under the nightgown she was wearing; the nightgown she was wearing the night she had been abducted one month ago.<p>

She looked up at the sounds of them intruding with wet brown eyes. She had a small smattering of cuts and bruises over her body, but she looked like she'd been kept in relatively good conditions.

"Who're you?" she asked, sniffling slightly.

"We were sent by Queen Ryuuzaki to rescue you," Tezuka replied, holding his hand out for her to take. She used it to lift herself off her bed and, as she stood, the others could see the chain that led from her left leg to a bracket on the wall.

Momo had a quick try at removing the chain but it was locked tight. In the end, it was easier to just snap the chain and get Eiji to take a look at it later. The princess looked like she wouldn't be able to handle going out through the window, so it became Echizen's job to guard her as the others cleared a path down the stairs. Echizen did not look impressed at his new task, but didn't complain. He just readied his bow, prepared to fire if he was needed.

The descent was easier as there were fewer guards, but the space was narrow and uncompromising, so Echizen's bow was of little value. They exited the tower and made their way to the horses they had gathered earlier for when they left. They seated the princess and Kawamura sat behind her to guide the horse. The others crouched around Eiji as he had a look at the chain around her ankle.

"It looks easy enough to remove," he said after a moment's contemplation and stood. As he turned to mount his horse, he froze. Ever so gently, he could feel the cold touch of steel to his neck and swallowed carefully.

"Don't move," a voice echoed from behind him and Eiji stopped breathing. The others, concerned at Eiji's lack of movement, looked back towards him and saw the bedraggled guard holding Eiji at the point of his sword. For a second that lasted a lifetime, no-one moved but then there was a breath of movement behind the guard.

Fuji had slunk out of the shadows and captured the guard in a parody of an embrace. His left hand was on the guard's wrist, restraining his hand and his right was caressing his neck with the wickedly sharp edge of a dagger.

"Let him go now," he whispered into the guard's ear. "There's a good boy now. Drop the sword, there we go." A flash and the guard was on the grass, unconscious.

"Now we have a witness," he said, a cheerful grin plastered on his face and he mounted his horse, easily dragging the unconscious weight of another man with him.

"Saa, shall we go?"

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><p>"We need to get her home."<p>

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><p>After being healed by Oishi, who carefully wrapped the princess in bandages and salves, and having the chain removed by Eiji, they were ready to send the princess home. They entered the gates of Seigaku like conquering warriors, met in the streets by the people, cheering at their princess coming home. They were lavished in attention and were easily allowed access to the palace, the palace guards bowing them through.<p>

The reunion of the royals was a restrained affair, what with all the council members present. Doubtless there would be a more emotional one in the privacy of their rooms later, but for now, Princess Sakuno simply bowed to her grandmother and regally sat in her throne without a second thought for the state of her dress.

Queen Ryuuzaki looked at those who had returned her granddaughter to her with gratitude. "Thanks to you, the princess has returned. You shall be rewarded and I personally thank you for your actions in this endeavour. I have something else to request."

She paused, whether to collect her thoughts or for dramatic effect was unknown, but she resumed quickly. "I would like you to stay here, as a team, to act in matters like this that may arise in future. You shall be handsomely paid and well cared for. Between tasks, if you would train my soldiers, I would be grateful."

The nine, who little more than strangers a month ago, exchanged looks, and deferred to Tezuka, each already knowing what the others would want.

One of the council members spoke up. "With all due respect, My Queen, these men are heroes. They should be doing tasks that befit heroes, not training your army," he scoffed. He was met by glares from the royals present and also from the nine in front of him.

"Don't presume to know what we want," Inui said and Kawamura nodded.

"Heroes can only exist in heroic worlds (5)," Fuji said, "Until there is need for us, we are regular men (6)."

"And to be a hero is to light a way for men to follow (7)," Tezuka followed. "Queen Ryuuzaki, we accept."

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><p>(1) One guinea is the equivalent of £1.05, so it's not that much different to £1000 in total, ballparking about $1300-$1500. It was considered a lot of money in the time I'm basing this, which would be just a vague 17th Century. In a fantasy land of course.<p>

(2) A wyvern is a mythological creature with the head of a dragon, the hindquarters of a lizard (with or without legs) and a barbed tail.

(3) A valet (with the "t" pronounced) is similar to a butler. A valet (with the "t" silent) is someone who drives your car for you.

(4) Princess in a tower. I know, cliché, but it's an epic, and I didn't want to go too Greek. I really wanted to put in something about "Your princess is in another castle" but decided it would be too Mario.

(5) Nathaniel Hawthorne: A hero cannot be a hero unless in a heroic world.

(6) Christopher Reeve: I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming consequences.

(7) Felix Adler: The hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by.

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><p>Next: Clio's History<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	3. Clio's History

Clio, the muse of History

Inspiration: That one person everyone has, who stays with you and teaches you so much more than you ever thought. Cheers, Mr Housecroft!

Seigaku: As far as I'm concerned, Fuji is the most unchanged person on the team. All the others seem to go through changes barring Fuji. It's only in the Nationals OVA that Fuji grows and develops; until then, he seems to rest completely on his three counters. He rests on his history.

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><p>Fuji Syuusuke was someone who had never been, and could never be, considered normal. He could remember from when he was younger being different from the other children. Whilst they were concerned about being superheroes and avoiding the cootie infested girls, he was inside reading his books or just watching them go about their day.<p>

He was always a lone wolf. He never really understood the need for him to interact with others. He didn't need them and would probably never need them. After all, he was different. Special. _Better_.

His parents, whilst immensely proud of their intelligent son, were a bit worried about his social isolation. He could recall seeing numerous clinicians and psychologists when he was little as his parents thought he was autistic. It wasn't that he didn't understand why others spent time together, he just didn't get why _he _had to do it.

When his little brother came along, he began to understand. He wanted to be around his brother and spend time with him. But he was, as much as it pained him to admit it, socially stunted. He didn't know how to "play nice" as his mother put it.

So he worked on it. He began to talk to his peers and play with them. He even made some "friends", just to help him interact with his brother better. But his brother didn't want to spend time with him and it hurt. But he wouldn't show that to anyone else. He hid it behind his smile and tried to compensate for this by throwing himself headfirst into being a "typical student".

In middle school, his grades were fantastic and he was the apple of his teacher's eyes. In high school, he was still the highest achiever in the year but he put more of his efforts into doing what is classmates were doing.

So he smiled all day, drank things he shouldn't, smoked things he couldn't pronounce and did things he wouldn't remember for fear of giving himself mental scars. They weren't his proudest moments but they taught him a lot about his character.

He had friends but he didn't want them. He was happy being alone and sadistic. He was perpetually bored with his life; he had no stimulation mentally as none of his peers were challenging. But he kept pretending.

So, when he went to university to study history, he had many reasons unknown to everyone else. He wanted to understand more about people to fit in better, after all, history is doomed to repeat itself. He wanted a course that would give him a chance to learn a lot factually, but history was also open to interpretation, which led him on to the main reason.

He wanted to find someone who could be a challenge. History was as good a major as any for that, given the number of opportunities for interpretation and therefore, verbal spars, which he did so enjoy.

Needless to say, he had high hopes for the future as he stood outside the Redbrick building that was, rather stereotypically in his opinion, partially covered in ivy. The black sign above the large wooden double doors proclaimed it to be the College of History.

* * *

><p>He smiled his first genuine smile in years, sighed a deep breath and walked up the small flight of stairs to his first class of the semester in History.<p>

As he entered the lecture theatre, he was a little surprised to find it empty. Completely empty. There was not another person in sight and Fuji had the rare opportunity of seeing the lecture theatre completely barren. It was larger than he had thought, but then again, the schedule said that this lecture was a joint lecture with the anthropology and geology students. The long benches ascended higher and higher and the seemingly comfortable plush seats were behind them. At the front, there was a large retractable screen for the lectures along with an overhead projector and, for some reason, a tennis ball.

'Odd,' Fuji thought but didn't dwell upon the thought for much longer. He began to search for a seat, trying to think of where he could sit to ensure he wasn't close enough to be called too eager but he wasn't too far away to be labelled a slacker.

Apparently, he'd spent so long searching for the perfect seat that he was still stood in the doorway when it opened again to allow other people entrance. One of whom walked straight into him and cause both of them to collide with the floor.

Fuji, who was face down on the floor smothered his growing ire with a placid smile and kindly asked the person to get off him when all he wanted to do was kick them somewhere that hurt. To their credit, the person in question was extremely apologetic, spluttering regrets over the laughter of his friends. He stood and offered his hand to Fuji to get up as he turned over. Fuji saw his bright red hair and equally bright blue eyes and took the offered hand.

"Sorry! I'm really sorry, nya!" he said, adding a curious cat sound to the end of his sentence.

"No worries," Fuji replied pleasantly. Fuji noticed that the strange person had yet to release his hand.

"I'm Eiji," the strange, seemingly perpetually happy person chirped, pumping Fuji's hand up and down.

"Fuji."

Eiji's smile grew, if possible and gave an extremely quick introduction of all his friends. They all seemed pleasant enough, if a little bland. There was the stern brunet -Tezuka- the tall brunet –Kawamura- the bespectacled raven haired –Inui- and finally, a fretting raven haired –Oishi.

"Come and sit with us Fuji!"

Fuji smiled and walked with Eiji to the seat, wondering if he'd either been given a vat of coffee that morning or if he'd been dropped on his head as a child. Fuji was thinking it was a combination of the two. Nevertheless, he plastered a vapid smile on his face and listened to Eiji chirp away like a hummingbird on amphetamines.

To the mercy of his ears, and his brain cells, which were steadily dying listening to Eiji prattle on about ice-cream, the rest of the students began to filter in to the lecture theatre. There was a growing buzz of noise that successfully drowned out the redhead and he almost sighed in relief. There was a loud clattering sound as everyone got out their pens and paper, preparing for the lecture.

They were poised and ready; all they needed now was the lecturer.

When the door opened next, Fuji honestly thought the person who entered was a late student. He was dressed in jeans and a red polo shirt –and was that a baseball cap?- and slouched in. He was soon corrected by the latecomer approaching the podium with a USB stick. A quick moment and he had the first slide of his lecture up on the screen for all to see.

There was no title, no graphics, nothing except his name. Echizen Ryoma.

"Right," he began in a bored tone, as though he'd much rather be somewhere else, "put your pens and paper away. I'll put the lecture up on the web so you don't have to copy it down.

"I want you to listen to what I'm saying. And pay attention. In my course you will be required to _think_. I know this may be a foreign concept for many of you, but do try at least." Fuji had to stifle a laugh.

"'For my part, I consider that it will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself.' Who said this?" he asked and was met with silence.

"Come on people! Pay attention! I'm not here to spoon feed this to you. Anybody?"

"Winston Churchill," Fuji voiced and he was immediately honed in on by Echizen-sensei. He saw his eyes for the first time and noted they were as electric as his were. A golden brown colour.

He received a smirk for his effort. "Well done, Fuji Syuusuke and yes, I know the names of everyone who is supposed to be in this room right now. It's nice to see that at least one person in the room is awake.

"Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister. Who can tell me why I'm telling you this in your first lecture of the course?"

Spurred on by Fuji's bravery, a few more souls voiced their answers this time around. Unfortunately for them, they weren't right so they were met with a glare from Echizen that could peel paint.

"No. Anyone else?" Fuji was surprised when the voice that had been irritating him all morning spoke up.

"That history isn't always right?" Eiji said and he too received a smirk.

"Yes. History is written by one person, by one country, by one side. Nine times out of ten, it's written by the victor or dominant party. It isn't always the truth, so take what you read with a pinch of salt, people.

"In this course, I'm going to teach you dates, and facts. I'll teach you figures, but even so, I don't expect you to just regurgitate what I tell you for the exams or for your future. I want you to question, I want you to give your opinions, I want you to contradict me and the textbook.

"I want you to think."

* * *

><p>It was bustling in the café where they stopped for lunch. They managed to squeeze two tables together to make room for them all. Fuji was tempted not to join them, but he hadn't brought his lunch and the café was as good as anywhere else on campus.<p>

So, he was once again surrounded by the hustle and bustle of other people he couldn't have cared less about if he tried. All credit to them, they did try and include him in their little circle, even Tezuka, who Fuji had learnt had the personality of a rock, but they weren't worth his time. No-one in high school was up to his level, why would these people be? It was an inevitability that he would never find someone at his intellectual level.

Fuji sighed into his wasabi rolls despondently. The others were loudly discussing their first lecture and Fuji was trying, and failing, to tune them out.

It was then that two of the second year students walked past them.

"Are you first years?" the taller one with the violet eyes asked. At their nods, he smiled even more. "You've just had Echizen-sensei haven't you?"

"Is he always like that?" Kawamura asked.

"Fshuu, yes," the grey eyed one responded, "he likes to make you think. Brilliant lecturer though; I learnt more from him than I did from any of the others. Definitely hard on you though."

"There can't be anything to learn from him that couldn't be taught by another person though," Fuji said aloud and quirked an annoyed eyebrow when he was met with laughter from the second years.

"Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. You're in for a rude awakening," the taller one laughed.

The other let out a small snigger. "Echizen-sensei is going to break you."

And then they were gone.

* * *

><p>"The only history worth a damn is the history we make today. Who said it people?" they were once again in Echizen-sensei's lecture and they had realised within the first week what the tennis ball was for. If Echizen-sensei ever caught you dozing off or tuning out, the ball would be belted at your head within an instant. It was also used to call on people who hadn't answered in a while, and today, it was thrown full pelt towards Kawamura.<p>

Lucky, the tall brunet caught it and correctly answered Henry Ford, but others hadn't been so lucky in the past. The two second years, who they had discovered were Momoshiro and Kaidoh, joined them frequently for lunch to help with projects or just to wind down with them. They had once told them a tale about Arai, a student in their year, who had been knocked unconscious by Echizen-sensei's near famous ball.

"Yes, Henry Ford. Now, Mister Ford was not a historian, nor was he an academic man. He was an industrialist who built cars. Yet, he said this. Why?"

It was just another lecture with Echizen-sensei.

* * *

><p>Midway through the semester, Fuji began to understand what Momoshiro and Kaidoh meant when they said rude awakening. They had just gotten their first set of results back and Fuji was a little horrified. He'd spent his entire life being the highest in the grade, easily surpassing everyone else, so when he discovered that his essay had earned him a C, he was furious.<p>

So furious he stalked up to Echizen-sensei at the end of his lecture to complain about it. Echizen looked at him as though he'd seen his type a thousand times and gestured for Fuji to follow him back to his office. Seated behind the large, paper covered oak desk, Echizen still looked like a child sitting in his father's office, but the look he pinned Fuji with was all adult.

"What is the problem, Fuji-kun?" he asked and didn't react at all when Fuji waved his essay in his face.

"You marked it wrong," he said pleasantly.

"Did I?" was the bland response. "What should I have graded it as?"

"An A," Fuji said and then something happened that he had never seen happen before. Echizen-sensei laughed.

"You've got to be kidding me," he managed to stutter out between snickers. "What is the first thing I told you to do this semester?" At Fuji's blank look, Echizen responded with: "Think! I told you to think!"

"Do you honestly think this essay is what you're capable of? It was a good essay, granted, but I have seen you. I know what you can do and this is nothing compared to that. This is abysmal. Maybe this will be a wakeup call for you.

"You've gone from being the only A student in your school to a class full of other A students, yes, even your friend Eiji was an A student in high school. We have to maintain the grading curve somehow, so naturally, some people drop down. And the people that drop down are those that don't work.

"You want to pass, you work for it. This is nothing like high school. If you think history is going to repeat itself and you're going to coast through my class, think again.

"Take this as a turning point. In fact, let me give you the options. You can do nothing to change, and let history repeat itself and flunk out or you can work harder and do better. If that's all, I have other things to do today."

And with that, he was dismissed and staring at the door of Echizen-sensei's office.

* * *

><p>It was two weeks later when it all began to change. Eighteen years of repetition and it was changing. And Fuji could only hang on for the ride. It had started, just like Momoshiro said. Echizen-sensei was breaking him.<p>

He was once again sat in the café with Eiji and his group of friends, contemplating the next assignment from Echizen-sensei. Normally in these discussions, Fuji remained silent; not wanting to participate and not wanting any help either. He'd never been in the position of needing help before.

They were around their usual table, its surface scattered with empty coffee cups and sugar packets as a testament to how long they'd been at it already. Fuji already had most of the assignment written up at home, but he had been struggling with one little section and no amount of reading had yielded the answer.

Lost as he was in his musings, he failed to hear Kawamura gently call his name until he reached out his hand and shook Fuji on the arm lightly. "Fuji, is everything ok?" he asked. Fuji was shocked for a second but quickly painted his smile back on.

"I'm fine, Kawamura. Just thinking about the assignment."

"Oh," Inui asked, "you looked as though you were having difficulty with something."

Fuji paused and wondered. Should he share his problem? He never had in the past but now was a time for change. Perhaps they could help. So he opened his mouth and started to explain his problem.

"Ah, I had difficulty with that as well," Tezuka voiced, stirring his tea casually. "Oishi gave me the book I needed for it yesterday. I could bring it in tomorrow if you would like?"

Just like that, Fuji's problem was solved.

Perhaps asking for help wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

><p>After that moment, after he had been broken out of his previous ways of thinking, Fuji changed. He began to do better in his assignments, but, more extraordinarily for him, he actually had friends. Real, genuine friends he socialised with outside the lecture theatre. They understood when he didn't want to talk and they helped when he had problems as well. He learned that helping them was a reward in itself.<p>

"Neither a wise man nor a brave man lies down on the tracks of history to wait for the train of the future to run over him." As usual, Echizen-sensei began his lecture with a quote. It was now the last semester of their first year, they would soon be entering exam month and it was the last ever lecture they would receive from Echizen-sensei.

So they had learnt what he wanted. It was without prompting that someone now spoke up "Dwight Eisenhower" and the lesson proceeded. It was a simple recap lesson about what could be on the exam, but it was only in the final few minutes, after the content was finished that Echizen-sensei explained his opener.

"History is important, of course. It makes and shapes you, but do not ever just lay there and let things happen, otherwise it will repeat itself. If you don't want something to happen, work hard to make sure it doesn't. History repeating itself is not inevitable.

"Learn from it and change your future. Good luck and if all goes to plan, I'll never have to see any of you again."

First year was over then and, true to his word, Fuji never saw Echizen-sensei again.

* * *

><p>Ryuuzaki Sakuno walked into her first lecture of the semester with a nervous air. She took some deep breaths and found an empty seat next to a girl with pigtails. They began chatting and before they knew it, their lecturer walked in. He plugged in his USB stick and began.<p>

"History is important. It makes you what you are. It is unchangeable but your future is liquid. You can change and shape it. How you choose to do so is because of your history. 'We are not makers of history, we are made by history.' Who said this?"

Silence.

"Come on people! Pay attention! I'm not here to spoon feed this to you. Anybody?"

"Martin Luther King," Sakuno nervously said and was, thankfully, met with a smile.

"Correct. What this means is that in this course, you can't rest on your laurels. I want you to work and I want you to think.

"I'm Fuji-sensei and welcome to History."

* * *

><p>Next: Erato's Lyrics<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	4. Erato's Lyrics

Erato, the muse of lyrical poetry

Inspiration: Writer's block. Nuff said

Seigaku: I chose Oishi for this since he seemed to be the most accomplished communicator on the team. He struck me as someone who would be good with words, hence, lyrical poetry.

* * *

><p>Oishi Syuuichirou sighed in frustration. For some reason, the words wouldn't come. He'd been stuck on the latest chapter for his novel for months now and his editor, Tezuka Kunimitsu, was beginning to hound him for updates. As much as Oishi wanted to appease Tezuka, the company and his hoards of readers, he just couldn't find the words to say what he wanted. He had all these vague ideas he wanted to use, but he couldn't express them and he didn't know where to begin.<p>

Imagine a writer that couldn't find the right words.

The cursor on his laptop blinked incessantly, mocking him, taunting him, goading him to write.

"Go on," it teased, "Fill my page up. Type something, you know you want to. But you can't, can you? You're stuck. You've got a block!" It seemed to say in his mind with its constant flickering.

'I've gone insane,' Oishi thought when he realised what he'd just imagined. He stood and walked away before he began to dream that the mouse was picking on him as well as the cursor.

He traversed the obstacle course that was his office, meandering through the valley of reference books and discarded ideas to the haven of the kitchen, where his saviour would be waiting for him. His coffee. Coffee didn't tease him with flashing. Coffee just wanted to please him, not like the evil cursor, which was in collaboration with the mouse to ruin his career as well as his sanity.

"That's it," Oishi said to himself, "Nothing more on the bloody cursor!"

He went to the kettle and flicked it on and went to his coffee pot. He looked inside and it was only then that he remembered he'd emptied it earlier in the day. Bugger.

Here, Oishi had two options. Go out for coffee or go without coffee. It was an easy decision and he shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his wallet and left the house.

In Oishi's haze of non-work, he had forgotten that it was two in the morning and so, many of the usual places to get the ambrosia of life were closed. He'd been so wound up about his novel that he'd completely forgotten that it wasn't "normal person operating time". As his usual coffee shop was closed for the night, he was pushed to find another one. He wandered around, the stagnant yellow lights from the street lamps his only company.

If he had lifted his head from staring at the pavement as he walked, he would have been entranced by the yellow light reflecting off the parked cars, bathing everything in a melancholic glow. He could have dreamed up hundreds of words to the sound of the breeze through the trees, the low pitched, almost mournful song they made. But he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He was just walking, lamenting his bad luck and lack of talent.

He was a terrible excuse for an author.

He walked, dragging his feet with every step, with no destination in mind. No place to aim for. He just kept following the slabs of cement below his feet wherever it would take him. He was moving, completely distracted by the pavement and focussing entirely on it. So the only way he noticed the change was when the drab grey of the pavement was alighted by something other than the dim yellow of the street lamps.

The lifeless concrete was given life as it became flushed with a warm orange glow, highlights of red and yellow splashed around, making a colourful patchwork that intrigued Oishi. The eclectic mix piqued his imagination and he felt like writing something for the first time in months.

He looked up and saw he was stood outside a small, Bohemian inspired café. The outside was made of windows framed with the darkest wood Oishi had ever seen in an elegant manner. The sign above the entrance was a red, yellow and orange neon light, spelling "Perk Up" in glass tubes. With a name like that, they were sure to serve some kind of caffeinated beverage, Oishi was certain, so he push open the heavy wooden door and walked in.

Inside was a vast difference to the outside world that was permeated with a stagnant silence. Inside there were soft strains of classical jazz being played, soulful trumpets and gentle piano notes married and created a beautiful song that surrounded and caressed the atmosphere. Oishi instantly felt more relaxed than he had in months in the café. The walls were the same dark wood from outside and simple photographs lined the walls. The couches were made of soft, red velvet and the table chairs were a burnt orange. The tables themselves were a deep yellow, as was the coffee counter.

He liked it here, Oishi knew from the first moment he stepped through the doors. He liked it even more when he read what was behind the counter.

"Perk Up. Serving you coffee at times when you actually need it."

"What can I get you?" Oishi turned his head at the sound of the voice behind the counter

His green eyes met the indigo ones of the barista behind a very expensive and shiny stainless steel coffee maker. He noticed that his red head flicked out at a very jaunty angle and he was dressed in a 19th century butler's outfit, without the tails (1).

"Just a coffee please," Oishi responded and was rewarded with a, probably patented, smile of understanding.

"What kind of coffee?" was the immediate question and Oishi flushed, glancing at the menu.

"A latte please."

"It'll be ready in a few minutes," the redhead, whose nametag read "Eiji", said. Oishi reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He was just leafing through it for some money when Eiji held up his hand stopping him.

"We don't charge after every drink here," he said with a grin. "We charge on leaving."

Oishi found himself smiling as well, for the first time in weeks. "Presumptive isn't it? You are presuming I'll be wanting another drink after this one." He got a delighted laugh in response.

"We've never had a customer who hasn't yet sir. I'll bring your latte over when it's ready."

* * *

><p>He sat at one of the tables, his back to the wall, dreaming. He was still awake but he was dreaming ideas on to a pilfered napkin in front of him. It was the first time he'd been struck with ideas in months and he wasn't going to waste the time. Granted, none of the ideas he had were relevant to his current work, but it helped to imagine for future works.<p>

The remnants of three coffees were scattered around him, proving Eiji's bold claim correct and he could see the redhead humming behind the counter as he made another for Oishi. Glancing up from his brainstorm he took in the rest of the café's patrons. Barring himself, there were three other people sitting over coffee and work at three in the morning.

One was a tall, raven haired man with heavy glasses and a laptop in front of him, typing furiously. The second was a short brunet, who was just stirring his drink, waiting for something. The last was a kind looking brunet, quietly reading a magazine with a large black bag next to him.

They were all here together but they were perfectly happy to sit in silence and Oishi, despite being curious as to why they were all awake at the same ridiculous hour he was, kept quiet as well. Eiji, who had just brought a new coffee over to Oishi, looked up to the clock on the wall.

"It's nearly time, nya?" he said, drawing the attention of everyone in the café. Oishi saw that all the other occupants perked up at the notice.

"I'd better start up the espresso machine," Eiji said and, no sooner had he switched it on, a person walked through the door. It was a short raven haired person, dressed in a rumpled suit and carrying a briefcase.

"Evening Eiji, everyone," he said, in a voice that made it seem he was twelve, though Oishi knew he was probably closer to thirty.

"Morning, Echizen," Eiji replied cheekily and got a deadpan stare from a set of golden eyes in return.

"I suppose we should start then?" the tall black haired one said, standing and bringing his laptop with him to the large circle of couches in the corner. The others stood as well and Eiji flicked off the stereo. The café seemed oppressively silent and Oishi was distinctly confused.

Echizen spared him a glance marked with curiosity and asked who he was. Eiji flushed a little since he'd been serving him for well over an hour and didn't know his name.

"I'm Oishi," he said nervously. He got all their names in response and was waved to join their circle of couches.

"You wouldn't happen to be Oishi Syuuichirou, would you?" Inui, the tall black haired one asked. Oishi nodded in response.

"Ah, the author," Fuji, the shorter brunet said. "I liked your books. Especially 'Moon Volley'."

"Thanks," Oishi blushed.

"You're probably a little confused," the taller brunet, Kawamura, said. "Every week we have a sounding session. We have it when Echizen leaves work, so it's usually at three am."

"How on Earth did you come up with this?" Oishi asked, genuinely confused.

"I was having trouble with something at work. I came here on my way home one night and was mulling it over in the corner. Inui was here as well and he looked like someone who would know the answer so I asked him. It grew from there," Echizen explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Don't question," he saw Eiji mouthing behind Echizen and like a good little author, Oishi didn't question him. They were soon all seated on the very plush and soft couches with drinks. Eiji sat down and joined them and then the sounding session began.

"Whose turn was it to start this week?" Eiji asked and Fuji raised his hand in assent.

"Mine. Just take a look and tell me what you think," and then he withdrew several photographs from the black holder he had with him. Oishi then remembered where he had heard of Fuji before; he was an up and coming photographer who was about to have a huge fundraiser in aid of the Disabled Tennis Charity.

"What's your theme this time Fuji?" Echizen asked, reaching for the topmost photograph.

"Hope."

The others had each gotten a photograph as well and Oishi tentatively reached to grasp one as well. He looked and saw it was a simple black and white image of a concrete pavement, cracked and in disrepair. Stood on the cement was a small, fragile bird, poised for flight. It was beautiful and Oishi said as much.

"They are spectacular, Fuji," Inui said, "but I don't think this one represents hope for me. Freedom, perhaps, but not hope." He motioned to the photograph he was holding, depicting an open field shot from between metal pipes.

"Perhaps you could shoot children," Kawamura said, "They have traditionally represented hope haven't they?"

"Thank you for the idea Kawamura. I'll try some new ones tomorrow."

"My turn then," Inui said, and launched into a long explanation of his problem. Oishi was lost after "the parabole" and knew he couldn't help with this issue. It seemed that Fuji was the only one who stood a chance at understanding Inui's doctorate level mathematics problem. As soon as Inui had said it was his turn, Echizen, Kawamura and Eiji had all turned to their drinks simultaneously. Oishi felt a little guilty that Inui was receiving so little input but, Echizen, who had noticed it on Oishi's face, merely said: "If I could help him with his mathematics, I wouldn't be going to him with mine."

It was a fair point.

Kawamura was next apparently and he reached down into his large bag and withdrew a cello. He nervously glanced at Oishi. "I'm a cellist and I'm auditioning for the Tokyo Orchestra. We have to write a piece for our instrument and I just wanted mine checked over before I perform it for the concours (2) next week."

He got up and performed his piece on the cello, a wonderfully slow, mournful tune with lengthened notes and flats used. However, to Oishi's grossly underdeveloped ears, he could get a feel of merriment as well, the way the tempo would sometimes quicken and the music would swell. There was a crescendo and the air lightened and grew and then, with the bow drawn across the strings in a flourish, it ended. Oishi was amazed; Kawamura had written this? It was fantastic.

Kawamura seemed to be embarrassed by the positive attention he was receiving from everyone, flushing happily with his work. He turned towards Echizen and awaited what the silent group member would say.

"Play it again for me from the eighth bar," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Echizen can hear in perfect pitch," Eiji whispered into his ear and everyone fell silent.

"Change that E flat to an E and switch the D to a D sharp. See how that sounds." Kawamura played it again with those changes and suddenly, pieces of the music Oishi hadn't even noticed as being lifeless were brimming with soul and merged much better with the rest of the piece. Kawamura seemed visibly pleased with the results and smiled happily as he pencilled in the changes on his score.

"Thank you Echizen." Echizen spared Kawamura a small smile and turned to Oishi.

"Your turn."

"But what about you?" he slipped, uncertainly. Echizen simply speared him with a bored gaze and then glanced at the clock. "I would like to sleep soon. Hurry up; I have to be in work again in four and a half hours." Oishi was panicking now, but everyone else looked at him openly and they were willing to listen to his problem.

So he began to tell them. He told them about how his publisher was pressuring him, about how he had no ideas; about the deadline and about how he could express himself.

"Ok, Oishi. Slow down," Eiji said, his hands held up in surrender. "One thing at once!"

"Sequel or stand alone?" Inui asked.

"Sequel."

"Do you have a plot?" Echizen inquired and Oishi shook his head. "It's a sequel to 'Moon Volley' right? Well we've all read it."

"I really liked it, nya," Eiji said, "There were a few things I always wanted to know though."

Everyone barring Oishi and Eiji leant back into their seats, sipping on their drinks in preparation for something. Eiji leant forwards, braced his hands on his knees and opened his mouth.

"Who was Takayuki's previous partner? Did they ever synchronise? If they did, what could they do that they couldn't do before? Did Hiroki (3) ever improve his stamina enough to go into space, like Takayuki wanted? What about the academy, did they ever win the tournament? You finished the book after the local one, but Captain Ryotaro wanted to go for the world."

All of a sudden, with the questions Oishi never knew existed, the new plot was unravelling. It was unfolding right in front of his eyes and he had Eiji to thank. Oishi knew those answers, after all, he'd created years and years of backstory for his characters but he'd never realised how little of it came across in his work.

This is why he shouldn't have listened when he was told never to keep in contact with his fans.

His face lit up with ideas and he couldn't wait to write them down, elaborate and embellish them.

"Well, we're done here I think. Night all," Echizen said, grabbed his coat and left. Slowly the rest bade one another a good night and dispersed as well, leaving Oishi and Eiji.

"Thank you so much Eiji!" Oishi said, picking up his scarf and rushing out the door.

It was only when he got home and had been typing for three hours that he realised he hadn't paid for his coffee.

* * *

><p>He went back the next day at a reasonable time, only to find the place was closed and there were no posted opening hours. He looked left and right and saw the open Starbucks and Costa (4) both sides and realised. Perk Up probably made all its money when those places were closed; if they opened when they were open, it would lose them money instead.<p>

So he went back at two am again, sheepishly paid a grinning Eiji and left to finish work before inspiration left him.

* * *

><p>"Well done Oishi," Tezuka said next time they met. He had just handed him the completed draft of his new book and he felt greatly accomplished. Tezuka had always been a stern yet strangely accommodating editor, so he was sat with Oishi at two am in Perk Up, mulling over the draft with a hot cup of tea next to him. The others were there as well: Kawamura was being treated to pastries by Eiji as a congratulations for winning the concours; Inui was, as always, typing furiously on his laptop and Fuji was glancing at Tezuka every so often with a predatory look in his eyes (5).<p>

The front door jingled as it opened and Tezuka was the only person to check who it was. Everyone else knew already.

"Echizen-sama!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet immediately. Echizen looked at him strangely over his book and nodded.

"Tezuka-san," he responded. Oishi looked on in confusion.

"You know him, Tezuka?"

"Yes, and you would as well, if you came into the office once in a while. This is Echizen-sama, the CEO of your publisher. And the CEO of the largest chain of bookstores in Japan. His portrait is above the reception area of the office."

"I thought I told them to take that down," Echizen said mildly. Oishi looked at the small man in shock.

"You knew about me and my book and you never said anything?"

Echizen smirked deviously and proceeded to go to the counter without answering, collected his espresso and sat on the sofa.

"Any problems for this week's sounding board?"

* * *

><p>"'Synchronisation', the newest novel by Oishi Syuuichirou, has topped the best sellers chart within the first week of release. Critics have acclaimed it as his best novel yet, explaining the questions from his first book 'Moon Volley' and it sold out in most stores within hours of release.<p>

"Oishi-sensei credits his newest novel to his family and to the mysterious "Sounding Board of Perk Up". Who these people are, nobody knows but we can only hope his next novel is as successful as 'Synchronisation'."

* * *

><p>(1) Black trousers, white shirt, waistcoat, tie and this bands that encircle the upper arms over the shirt. Imagine Sebastian in Kuroshitsuji without the jacket (aka coattails)<p>

(2) A competitive examination, mostly used for university entrances etc. People perform/interview for _n_ places/jobs and the best _n_ are accepted over the others. They suck, especially the music ones; people get really competitive in them. When I did my music concours, someone mistuned my violin before I went on to perform so I had to emergency retune it. Musicians can be vicious.

(3) Oishi's seiyuu is Takayuki Kondou, Eiji's is Hiroki Takahashi and Tezuka's is Ryotaro Okiayu.

(4) I don't own either of these establishments. If I did, I would not be working. I'd be cruising around the world in my personal yacht.

(5) That's probably the closest I will ever get to a pairing.

* * *

><p>Up next week: Euterpe's Music<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	5. Euterpe's Music

Euterpe, the muse of music

Inspiration: Re-discovering the awesomeness of Fantasia by Disney. Not the 2000 one but the original 1970s one. I have to say, this chapter is one of my favourites because I can relate to this one well. The Euterpe and Melpomene are the two chapters I relate to the most.

Seigaku: Kawamura is the type of person who would be intense on an instrument. All that pent up aggression and passion that only finds its way out when he's playing tennis. Imagine that with an instrument. O.O Wow.

Note: I've included the names of a lot of pieces in this fic. I'm not going to pressure any of you but if you get a chance, try to listen to a few of them as they are some truly beautiful pieces of music.

* * *

><p>The cacophony of noise radiating from the music room was loud, deafening and, in Kawamura Takashi's eyes, could not be considered music. He was by no means an expert but, after his karate school closed down, he had decided to learn music. His father thought it was a phase that he would get over soon. His mother was delighted and wanted him to choose an instrument that was in the forefront all the time, like the violin, but he had wanted to learn the double bass. It wasn't a flashy instrument and it wasn't in the spotlight, but it was strong and sturdy, like him, and it provided a vital rhythm to an orchestra that appealed to him.<p>

He had thought that after fourteen years (1) living in the same house as his parents that they would know him better by now. They would know that he didn't want the spotlight and that he was happy in the background.

His father had found him a teacher, Gen-sensei (2) and he began to have lessons in the double bass. It was only after about six weeks of lessons that he was allowed to draw the bow across his instrument, having been taught how to read music and learning about his instrument dearly. Gen-sensei always said to him "Unless you know it, you can't play it" and he always held true to that.

After learning to play the double bass for a few years with Gen-sensei, he had suggested he join a little orchestra. By no means was he suggesting a full orchestra, but a string one would be good enough. Gen-sensei said that the only way to truly appreciate an instrument was to hear it as it was meant to be: surrounded by other instruments, each contributing to something beautiful.

So he had looked around and found that the youth centre close to his school had a beginner string orchestra on certain evenings that he could join. It was this building which Kawamura was currently stood outside, listening to the noise emanating through the walls.

He took a deep breath and entered.

* * *

><p>"Kawamura-kun," the conductor began after keeping Kawamura behind after the session had finished, "you've been coming here for a few weeks now and there's something I need to tell you."<p>

Kawamura felt a bit of dread enter him. He enjoyed being a part of the orchestra but he often found himself struggling to fit in with the group. He hoped he wouldn't be asked to leave because of it.

"I don't think you belong here."

Kawamura's heart sank. He'd begun to really love his instrument and the orchestra was one of the best nights of the week. He didn't get to do much after school with the other students, so orchestra night was one of the few days he spent with people his own age outside of school. He liked it; at school, people were reticent to approach him as he was a little taller and a bit more imposing than his classmates so orchestra had become very dear to him.

The conductor sighed. "You're just a bit too advanced for my orchestra. I think you'd do better in the advanced string orchestra. They meet on a different night. I could give you the information if you'd like?"

Kawamura mutely nodded and left.

* * *

><p>So, there he was, about to breech another music room and meet an entirely new group of people to play with. He pushed open the soundproofed doors and what greeted his ears was much more pleasing than the beginners group. However, it came to an abrupt end when the musicians noticed that the door had opened. Kawamura then noticed that he and his large case were the fixation point of eighteen eyes. He gulped nervously and bowed.<p>

"Hello, I'm Kawamura. I was directed here from the beginners group." He knew his voice was as squeaky as a prepubescent boy but he couldn't help it. He heard a distinctly feminine chuckle and looked up to see the conductor smiling down at him from behind the music stand. She was a middle aged woman dressed in a pink tracksuit with her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Kawamura vaguely recognised her from his school; he seemed to think she was the tennis coach.

"Hello Kawamura, I'm Ryuuzaki-sensei, the conductor for the advanced group. You go to Seigaku right? I think I've seen you around." At Kawamura's nod, she continued. "All the other members of the advanced orchestra are from Seigaku as well." And she began to introduce them.

"On cello we have Kaidoh and Momoshirou, both second years and Oishi, third year. On viola there's Inui and Fuji, both third years. On violin there's Kikumaru and our first violin is Tezuka, again, both third years. Behind the piano is Echizen, first year (3)."

She looked at his case. "Double bass? Brilliant. We've been needing someone to play since Yamada left last year."

She directed him to a tall stool at the back of the neatly arranged chairs where there was a wooden block fixed to one of the legs. It was a holder used by double bassists and cellists to hold their instruments in the correct place when playing. He dragged his precious instrument over to the stool. Even though it was rented and not bought, he still thought of it as his own.

He perched on the stool and set up his double bass. Once it was out, he lovingly touched it's strings and, making sure his bow was full of rosin, he was about to begin tuning his instrument. Normally at home, he had a little device to help him but it wasn't with him today so he was a little lost.

Then, he heard the piano begin to play. He heard Echizen play an A to help him tune. Then, the rest of the strings joined in, despite him knowing that their instruments must have been tuned. Soon, Kawamura had tuned his double bass and was grateful to the others for helping him.

He jostled his double bass in his hold and glanced at the sheets of music on the stand in front of him; Ryuuzaki-sensei must have put them there whilst he was tuning. It took a brief look for him to recognise the steady beat for his instrument within the inky lines of black. He looked up at Ryuuzaki-sensei and nodded his readiness.

"Alright everyone," she said, tapping her stand with her baton, "from the beginning." And after setting the beat, Kawamura and everyone else began to create beauty together.

* * *

><p>Kawamura began to lust for Monday evenings. After that first session where he became a part of something magical, he craved more, like a drug. His own personal addiction.<p>

He was even more surprised at what happened following his first few sessions. He had grown up as a lonely child, avoided and somewhat shunned because of his perpetually larger size, so he was shocked when something amazing happened.

It was just a simple action, one Wednesday. He had made it through another morning of class, speaking little and socialising even less, counting down the days until he could be at Monday's orchestra again. He had remained at his desk, unwilling to eat in the canteen and subject himself to sitting and eating alone. He reached and got his lunch and had just unwrapped it when he noticed two people taking up his neighbour's empty chairs and pulling them so they also sat at his table. He looked up and saw the smiling faces of Eiji and Fuji, two of the members of his new orchestra.

"Hi Kawamura-kun!" Eiji chirped, grinning manically. His expression was matched by a slightly more sedate smirk from Fuji. Kawamura was surprised. No one, in the history of this school, had ever joined him for lunch.

"I know we're not in your class," Fuji began, "but we were walking past yesterday and we saw you in here. So we came to have lunch with you today. I hope you don't mind."

Mind? Why on earth would he mind? Kawamura was flabbergasted and touched. Not only were people here, sharing lunch with him, but they sought him out to be with him. He was moved. Fuji and Eiji began to eat their lunches and Kawamura started to unwrap his. His father and he made his lunch every day, a traditional Japanese bentou. His mother did it once but they quickly realised that his father was the best cook in the household.

He opened it, aware that they hadn't made anything special today, just some sushi left over from last night at the restaurant. He had slept in this morning and his father was too busy to make him anything so he'd packed that up for lunch. He didn't think it was anything impressive.

His new lunch partners thought otherwise.

"Uwah!" Eiji moaned, salivating at the sight of the sushi, "That looks really good. Can I have some, Taka?"

"Taka?" Kawamura said, confused. Eiji carried on as though he hadn't heard him, drooling over his lunch. Kawamura pushed the box towards him, smiling as the red head literally pounced on the sushi as if he were a cat.

"He does it to all his friends," Fuji's amused voice echoed from beside him. "Give them nicknames, not eat their lunch. It does look very nice though. May I have some as well?"

Kawamura nodded, dazed. They counted him as their friend? He was about to swell with happiness.

He had friends.

* * *

><p>Since that moment, Kawamura took to bringing a larger bentou box with him to school, just in case one of his new friends wanted some of his lunch. His father noticed this and that his son seemed happier on a daily basis. He smiled knowingly and left Kawamura to his own devices.<p>

Usually, it was Eiji and Fuji who joined him for lunch in his classroom, considering Tezuka and Oishi both had student council duties to attend to during lunch hour and Inui liked to use the empty science laboratories during lunch. However, when the weather was good, they would all congregate on the roof top and eat up there. Momo, Kaidoh and Echizen would join them as well and their little string orchestra would talk about everything and nothing over sushi and bread. Frequently, Momo and Kaidoh would dissolve into a fight about something inane and inconsequential; getting Tezuka or Echizen to speak was a challenge and getting Eiji to pause to let someone else speak was equally difficult but it was exciting and fun.

Kawamura lived for these moments.

* * *

><p>Three months since he started at the advanced orchestra, Ryuuzaki-sensei had an announcement for them. They had just finished tuning their instruments and Echizen had finished muttering about the cleanliness of the hands of the pianist before him, when Ryuuzaki-sensei entered, carrying many more papers than usual. She handed a small stack to Echizen at the piano as she passed and then circulated the rest around the semi-circles of string musicians.<p>

"Alright everyone," she began with her usual brisk tone, "before we begin tonight, I have something to discuss with everyone. In three months, the under sixteen string orchestra concours begin. Before that, a group would have to pass the district competition to get to the regionals and then nationals. I want to know if you all want to participate." Kawamura could see from his vantage point at the back of the strings that the other members had turned to their seat partners, excited hushes whispering around the room. Ryuuzaki-sensei cleared her throat, waiting for everyone to quieten down. "Before we even submit anything, I want you to go home and talk it over with you family. It would mean we would be practicing four nights a week as opposed to once and I expect everyone to pull their weight."

Then, she tapped her stand with her baton and they all put their papers to one side, focussing on that night's practice.

* * *

><p>Kawamura had left practice that night, his attention on the papers in his hands. He had done his best to read them through in the weak yellow light of the street lamps but was unable to see some of the smaller characters. He enjoyed the thought of the concours though; to be able to compete with his new friends was something Kawamura had only dreamed of in the past. He hadn't thought such a thing possible.<p>

When he arrived home, he went to speak with his parents. Usually, his parents came to decisions quite democratically with him but his mother was out with her friends that night, leaving his father to talk to. Once he'd gotten in, he'd dropped his papers in his room, reverently placed his instrument as well and went downstairs to help his father in the restaurant. A simple "can I talk to you about something later, dad?" was whispered as he skinned and boned a salmon and he felt his father nod next to him.

For the next few hours, they worked in relative silence, letting the loud noise of the patrons wash over them until they closed. Kawamura began on the washing up as his father removed the curtain from outside. After they had fully finished in the shop, they went upstairs and Kawamura showed his father the papers. Kawamura senior was silent as he read them, his stern eyes skimming the pages.

"Takashi," his father began, "I'm only going to say this once." Kawamura looked at the floor, disappointment coursing through his veins. "As you know, we depend on you quite a bit in the shop and you are coming up to your high school entrance exams, so your mother and I don't want you distracted any more than necessary."

Kawamura nodded despondently, knowing this already. "But you are a Kawamura," his father continued, "and if you're not doing something you love and you could be, you'd be distracted." His father smiled a sad smile. "Your mother and I have seen you become happier than we've ever seen you over the past few months and we know you love the orchestra. So we will let you go to the concours if your orchestra decides to go."

Kawamura's hopes skyrocketed as he looked upon his father. He bloomed into a full smile and thanked his father profusely.

He couldn't wait for the competition to begin.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were a flurry of activity as they prepared for the district competition. Rehearsals were extended, practice nights were increased to Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays and their lunches became extra time to practice together as they went up to the music room to rehearse then as well.<p>

Their pieces were chosen by Ryuuzaki-sensei for the districts. The guidelines had stated classical so they were performing Danse Macabre and Toccata and Fugue in D minor (4). It had taken them a little while to get their heads around Toccata and Fugue as Ryuuzaki-sensei had declared that the sections normally taken on by the brass section were to be the double bass parts. Kawamura had been shocked.

"Is it alright for me to be taking on such a large role?" he had questioned only to be gently hit upside the head.

"Baka," Momo had said from his place in front of him.

"You're as good as the rest of us, so why not?" Kaidoh had hissed from next to Momo.

Their practice was intense but Kawamura never sickened of hearing everyone. Tezuka and Eiji were creating mournful music on their violins, in keeping with the deathly dance; Inui and Fuji weaving it with the needed dissonance. Oishi, Kaidoh and Momo were supporting it with soulful cellos and hearing Echizen on the piano performing Toccata was intense.

"I'll be playing the organ during the actual concours," the short boy had muttered and Kawamura was shocked. He sounded so brilliant on the piano, he couldn't imagine what the first year could do on an organ.

He didn't realise it but his double bass playing was astounding as well, doing the quick note changes demanded by the Toccata and the long supports for the Danse effortlessly. He was a backbone to their little orchestra.

The day before the district concours, they had a practice session in the auditiorium where they were to be held, so they could get the acoustics correct (5) and so Echizen could play on the organ for their second piece. When they finished, it was late and everyone was tired but they were all satisfied with their work.

Even if Echizen did look like a little Phantom of the Opera on the organ.

It was no surprise they won the district concours.

* * *

><p>They went on to the regional competition, where the theme was films. This one posed a little more trouble as they had to carefully choose their film songs and they had to have a solo piece. Eventually, after watching many films, they chose the Chariots of Fire theme, the Forrest Gump theme and Schindler's List for their solo (6). They were pleased with their selection and were happy with how they were progressing until Tezuka damaged his wrist. It wasn't enough to prevent him from entering the contest with them, but it did stop him from performing many of the trills involved with his solo and Eiji didn't feel like he could play the song properly to do it justice.<p>

So they had to choose another song. It was Fuji that offered a cello piece. He had heard a piano and cello piece from a film and as Oishi was the most experienced cellist in the group, it fell to him. That was how Oishi became the soloist for their regional competition.

During the show, they played their versions of Chariots of Fire and Forrest Gump and many were surprised when they offered In Dreams from Lord of the Rings (7) as their solo piece but they were pleased.

After all, Hyoutei had already had Atobe playing Schindler's List for them so something different was pleasant.

* * *

><p>They won the regionals, barely as they nearly tied with Hyoutei. They had to play they're reserve piece to win but it was worth it. They were approaching nationals next.<p>

The selection for nationals was by far they're hardest yet. The brief they had was for four pieces based on happiness, sorrow, and two different strength and weakness pieces. These could be strong, weak or weakness in strength or vice versa. That was it, no limitation as to century, style or artist. They were almost too free. And they were struggling.

The only way Ryuuzaki-sensei could see them doing this was to split the task. Tezuka was exempt as he had to go to physiotherapy for his wrist so she broke the task between the remaining eight. She would search but they were to do so as well. Fuji, Momo, Inui and Kaidoh had strength and weakness, Eiji and Oishi had happiness and Echizen and Kawamura were to search for sorrow.

The next day, Kawamura went around to Echizen's house to discuss the sorrow theme with him. He'd been looking on the internet last night for some pieces they could use but they were all a little cliché for him. They were sorrowful pieces certainly but he felt they weren't right. They were representations of someone else's sorrow, not theirs. Not his.

Echizen, he discovered, lived in a very nice house; a large two story house with traditional wooden floors and sliding interior paper doors. He'd knocked and was greeted by a very pretty young girl, who he later discovered was Echizen's cousin. He'd been given slippers and blushed when she handed him a mug of tea before he could sit down. He was led to a room that was obviously for Echizen's music. It was a large, slightly barren room with little else in it aside from the highly polished, jet black grand piano that looked as well used as it did loved.

He found Echizen sat in front of the piano, tinkling on the keys without rhyme or reason. He was dreaming up a random tune that had a slightly melancholic sound to it but it felt more distracted than purposeful. Kawamura cleared his throat to announce his presence and the playing stopped. Echizen turned on his stool, his burnished golden eyes focussing on Kawamura with feline intensity.

"Hello Kawamura-sempai," he said, "did you have any success last night?" Kawamura mutely shook his head and Echizen sighed softly.

"Me neither. However, my oyaji once said that the history of a people is found in its songs (8) and I think that's where we'll find our sorrow." He stood up from his stool and walked out of the room, motioning Kawamura to follow. The older teen did so, very aware of the fact that he was double Echizen's height.

They reached a room at the end of the corridor and the door was opened. Inside, Kawamura could see a hastily made bed and a desk with a music player and hundreds of CDs. Curled up in a fluffy ball on the blue bedspread was a Himalayan cat, its whiskers twitched slightly but that was the only acknowledgement the feline gave.

"Luckily for us, I was a very depressed child and my music selection reflects that. Grab a CD and start looking," the black haired boy ordered, himself picking a stack of CDs and seating himself on his bed to flick through them. Kawamura did likewise and sat himself at the desk.

They continued in silence, only breaking it to query a song choice with the other. Occassionally, Kawamura had to listen to a CD as Echizen had many classical pieces that he had never heard before. At the bottom of his pile was a CD that intrigued him. There was one song in particular that sounded promising and he popped the CD in the player to have a listen.

As soon as it started, Kawamura started to feel the emotions of the song. He began to envisage it in string format, the vocals replaced by Tezuka's violin, the guitars became the violas and cellos and the drums became his double bass. It was so sorrowful in his head that he turned to proclaim his choice to Echizen only to find him looking at the player, a soft smirk on his face.

"Well, that's one of them off the list."

* * *

><p>The practiced furiously and eventually adapted their pieces for their orchestra. They replaced vocals with instruments and drums with either the double bass or the piano. They felt satisfied with their work and when they travelled to the concert hall for nationals, they were nervous but happy with their efforts. Tezuka had made a good recovery with his wrist and they were back to their best.<p>

They sat themselves in the audience as they listened to the other contestants. They had to admit, the others were impressively good, hitting notes perfectly. Kawamura did note that many of the pieces he had disregarded for sorrow were in other orchestra's selections. Personally, Kawamura felt they had a better selection than many of the others and that they had a good chance of winning.

Until Rikkai Dai Orchestra went onto the stage. They immediately launched into Ode to Joy for their happiness and kept producing perfect notes and techniques. They also had an innovative take on Aerith's theme for their sorrow that had Kawamura's confidence drooping (9). The winner for the previous three years was excellent and it was obvious why they were winners.

After Rikkai Dai had finished their entry, it was time for the Seigaku Orchestra to go and prepare. Kawamura could see that he wasn't the only one to get a little dispirited after seeing how good their competition was. Even the ever optimistic Eiji was drooping a little. They all congregated in a little circle, silently waiting for someone else to break the uncomfortable silence.

Kawamura was shocked when he found it was himself.

"I don't mind if we win or lose today. I don't mind if we place. As long as we play our best, I'll be happy," he began, watching as all eyes turned to him, so reminiscent of his first night at the advanced orchestra. This time, he wasn't intimidated though. These were his friends.

"I'm very glad I came to orchestra and that I met you all. You are my dear friends now and I think friendship is like my double bass. The music it sounds may stop now and then but its strings are always there (10). Our music may win, our music may lose but as long as we can keep playing our music together, I'll be happy." He finished, feeling a lot more foolish than when he'd run the speech through in his head. He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed for his outburst.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Tezuka stood there supporting him. A quick glance around showed the others in complete agreement. Ryuuzaki-sensei cleared her throat.

"Let's go out there and make our music."

* * *

><p>It was a rare day for them, but the Kawamuras had closed their restaurant. They put the sign outside and drove in their delivery truck to the concert hall in Tokyo where their son was performing. It had taken months of waiting and a lot of savings to get two tickets to the national concours but they wouldn't miss this for the world. They were seated on plush chairs, a programme between them that stated their son's orchestra was the next on stage, their ancient video camera poised for its first video since their marriage.<p>

They, like the rest of the crowd, descended into polite applause as the orchestra came on stage, dressed professionally in black suits, the conductor was in a modest black dress and jacket. She turned to speak to the judges and the audience.

"Ladies, gentlemen and esteemed judges, I thank you on behalf of Seigaku Orchestra for this opportunity. We shall begin our selection with our happiness piece, followed by our sorrow and then our two strength pieces. We have chosen to branch away from the traditional this year and choose pieces that represent us. So, I give you happiness: Fantasies Come True."

With that she turned and raised her baton. Kawamura poised his bow, ready for the beginning fall and they started. The whimsical nature of the song and the translation of the words into a musical conversation between Tezuka and Eiji was light and enjoyable. Kawamura couldn't see anyone in the audience but he imagined them smiling and he suddenly began to enjoy himself more.

All too quickly, happiness was finished, and they prepared themselves for sorrow. They began to stroke more roisin into their bows as Ryuuzaki-sensei introduced their next piece. "Please enjoy our next piece. Sorrow: My December."

The piece began with Echizen, playing the melancholic introduction and then the strings joined in, a slow, mournful tune that inspired the sadness in all who listened. Kawamura's father watched on, remembering somewhere that it was originally a song by a rock band. He knew his son was good but it was incredible music his orchestra was making.

"Thank you. Our last pieces are our strength/weakness and I shall introduce them both here. Firstly is Tsubasa and the second is Libera me from Hell (11)."

The delicate Tsubasa began, once more, Echizen was leading them in and Tezuka violin became Honda Minako's beautiful voice, his bow providing the thirty second long note as the rest of the instruments exploded with sound. When Fuji and Momo had come to them with such a song, they had wondered about it. It had seemed so fragile, until that note and that explosion. Such power and strength was displayed through the fragility that it was inevitable. They had to use it.

There was a brief pause as they launched into their final piece. It was so different from their previous one but still strong. This piece had a strong bass and structure, but the power of the piece came from the lone viola in the midst. Fuji's playing mimicked the operatic soloist the original song had and that was the power; the strong base leading to a fragile note made Fuji's viola stronger.

They finished their fourth and final piece and Kawamura felt elated at the feeling. There was a slight pause of silence until the auditorium exploded with applause. They looked on in amazement as they stood and bowed and Kawamura was astounded when he saw many members of the audience were also rising to their feet.

They had a standing ovation.

* * *

><p>Kawamura and the others remained in the orchestra until they graduated. The third years all went on to the same high school and joined the orchestra there. They waited two years when they had their old orchestra back again and set off to conquer nationals together for a second time.<p>

Their first trophy was still on Ryuuzaki-sensei's desk at middle school and most of the prize money went towards buying Kawamura a double bass of his own.

* * *

><p>(1) I have this (?bad) habit of ageing the PoT characters but for this one, younger fits better. I began learning the violin when I was six and although I'm happy I did it, I now have a fixed flexion in my left arm from holding the instrument whilst my bones were growing. It's the same as "Little League Elbow" as I can no longer fully stretch my elbow.<p>

(2) Gen is the sushi maker in ep 133 "The Best Sushi maker in Japan". Yes, I'm sad.

(3) When I played with my string orchestra, although it was strings, there was always piano accompaniment. My story, my rules.

(4) Danse Macabre is by Saint-Saëns and Toccata and Fugue is by Bach. I do not own them.

(5) "The room affects the sound" is something my teacher always told me and it's true; it's why everyone sounds good when they sing in the shower. The shape and size and even the material of the room affects the echoes of the sound and can make the pitch different. It's why the orchestra always tunes up before they play, because although they tuned before they entered the stage, the room can make an A sound flat or natural or sharp, so they need to check.

(6) Chariots of Fire is the property of Warner Bros, Fox and Vangelis. Forrest Gump is the property of Paramount and Silvestri. Schindler's List is the property of Universal Studios and Williams. I do not own them.

(7) In Dreams and Lord of the Rings are the property of New Line and Shore. I don't own them.

(8) Quote from George Jellinek

(9) Ode to Joy belongs to Beethoven and Aerith's theme belongs to Square Enix and Uematsu. I do not own.

(10) Adapted from: "Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever." June Masters Bacher.

(11) Fantasies Come True is from Avenue Q and was written by Marx and Lopez. My December is by Linkin Park and Tsubasa is by Minako Honda. Libera me from Hell is the property of Iwasaki and is under the ownership of the Gurren Lagann companies and writers. I do not own them.

* * *

><p>Up next: Melpomene's Tragedy<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	6. Melpomene's Tragedy

Melpomene, the muse of Tragedies.

Inspiration: Losing a patient. I know that as a writer, I tend to draw on my experiences. Sometimes more loosely than others, but this little one, barring the name changes and obvious PoT-isms, was completely taken from one of my shifts.

Seigaku: There's something tragic about Kaidoh. Misunderstood, misrepresented and under his tough shell, so fragile inside.

Note: As indicated by the chapter title, this chapter is not a fun one. It may make you feel upset but it is a much more accurate account of my experiences than something like Casualty or House (I don't own either of these shows).

* * *

><p>It was nearing the end of the week for Dr Kaoru Kaidoh. As a newly qualified doctor, he was contracted to work only 48 hours a week (1), but given his assignment to Ward 18, he hadn't worked that since he started working at the large Seigaku hospital. Ward 18 was the gastroenterology ward after all. His patients were a mix of all kinds of people. He dealt with the irritable patients who were admitted to recover from their alcohol induced pancreatitis. Invariably, he was the one the nurses called when said patients were being unreasonable. Once he had even had to glare a patient into submission after they tried to drink the alcohol hand gel just to get ethanol into their system (2).<p>

When he wasn't dealing with the unrepentant alcoholics, he had the paediatric patients who had contracted appendicitis or swallowed something from underneath the kitchen sink. He had to endure the overbearing behaviour of their parents who wouldn't even let him examine their precious children even though they were the ones who put the caustic bleach in the unlocked cupboard within their "little angel's" reach.

The other group of patients were the nice ones. The lovely little old women and men who offered him sweets that they weren't allowed or nicely put up with his ministrations when changing their tubes around. He enjoyed dealing with those patients.

His life was not helped by the other junior doctors on his ward. Dr Takeshi "call me Momo" Momoshiro was more interested in talking the nurses into doing his jobs than doing them himself. He and Momo had trained at the same medical school and had been mild rivals during exam weeks. The other, Dr Ryoma Echizen, was mostly unknown to Kaidoh. He had trained in America and kept mostly to himself but did his work well. Unfortunately, his interaction with the nurses was worse than Kaidoh's own. Especially with staff nurse Ryuuzaki, the granddaughter of the Chief of Medicine in the hospital. For some reason, Echizen could not remember her name at all and left her crying about three times a day.

As he sat behind the desk, preparing the patient's notes for the morning ward round, Kaidoh mused about his life. Medicine had lost much of its appeal since completing his degree. When he entered university, being a doctor was such a brilliant idea. He wanted to help people, he wanted to learn much about people, he wanted to cure disease, but now that he was one, much of the sparkle had left him. There was much more paperwork involved than he had first thought and he was constantly on his guard. Ever since that one ward at Fudoumine Hospital had been discovered as substandard and all the doctors on that ward struck off, Kaidoh was paranoid about losing his job.

His musing was brought to an abrupt end when the consultant for the ward came on to start the round. Mister Kunimitsu Tezuka was a brilliant surgeon (3). Apparently he'd injured his arm when he was younger so to become a world renowned gastrointestinal surgeon was astounding. His registrar, Mister Syuusuke Fuji, was in his customary place, on Tezuka's left, with his customary grin on his face. Kaidoh felt a presence behind his left shoulder and saw that Echizen had appeared there, carrying the rest of the notes with him. Considering that Echizen was at least a head smaller than Fuji, who was shorter than average as well, it was an achievement.

They exchanged no words but Echizen's golden brown eyes slid in his direction in a vague acknowledgement of his existence. He nodded silently, received one from Kaidoh and both turned to face their two seniors.

"Are we ready to begin?" Tezuka asked, looking at the clock. It was 8.05, an entire five minutes after his usual start time. He spared a mild glare at Fuji, who smiled back unapologetically. There was a sound of crashing through the ward doors and everyone's attention was drawn to the new comer. A tall, violet eyed man rushed through the doors, pulling his stethoscope from his ears and looking at his bleep at the same time. Tezuka opened his mouth to chastise him but a subtle nudge from Fuji directed him to the other bleep Momo had. The bright red one (4).

As Momo reached the group of doctors, someone emerged from behind the desk. Charge Nurse Takashi Kawamura was ready for the rounds as well, ready to give his input to the doctors as he was better acquainted with the patients.

Halfway through the round they came upon a new patient that was admitted overnight.

"Who admitted this patient?" Tezuka asked and Echizen, who had been on the night shift, raised his hand.

"Mamoru Inoue, 47, presented last night with jaundice. He has no risk factors for the usual causes, doesn't smoke and has no abdominal pain. He also reported steatorrhoea and dark urine and a six kilogram weight loss. His U&Es were mildly deranged, his FBC showed slightly raised white cells and his LFTs showed a raised Alk Phos and conjugated bilirubin. I called Dr Inui in radiology last night to arrange a CT scan, which has been booked for this morning. (5)"

Tezuka nodded at the quick summary of his condition and approached him to do his own examination. Despite his yellow appearance, Inoue was completely comfortable during the examination. Tezuka and Fuji exchanged glances with one another.

"Right, Kawamura, keep him nil by mouth until his CT scan. Inoue-san, we'll wait for the results of the scans but there are several possible causes for your symptoms. At the moment, we're trying to rule some of them out, so please could you be patient with us."

Inoue smiled and nodded in understanding. "Of course doctor. Thank you for your time."

And then, like a business transaction, both moved onwards; Inoue went back to his tennis magazine and Tezuka led the ward round on to the next patient.

"Momo, present."

"Ryuuji Sasabe, 56, presented yesterday with complications of alcoholic liver disease…" (6)

* * *

><p>It was at the end of the rounds and Kaidoh sat down with Echizen and Momo to divide up the jobs to be done that day. All the blood requests, imaging requests and things had to be delegated and done. Since Momo was covering the emergency bleep, Echizen and Kaidoh covered most of his jobs. Momo, more relaxed than he had been this morning, decided to regale them with the tale as to why he was delayed this morning.<p>

"So, I was just getting in, and I'd just picked up the bleep from Arai, who covered last night and it went off. I was called to MAU (7) to deal with this patient who had just had a fit. And then I had to get them back into bed and they must have weighed a ton at least!" he regaled, complete with hand gestures and arm movements. Echizen and Kaidoh exchanged exasperated glances as they went back to their notes but Momo wasn't paying attention.

"It is highly improbable that the patient weighed a ton, metric or imperial," a voice intoned behind them, making all three of them jump. They turned to see the flashing glasses of Dr Inui, the consultant radiologist.

"It was a hyperbole, Dr Inui," Echizen drawled.

"Ah, of course," the tall consultant said. He was stood in front of the desk with an electronic pad, jotting down information. Whether that information was pertinent or not was unknown.

"Dr Inui, who are you here for today?" Kaidoh hissed but still respectful towards a senior.

"Echizen asked that I do a CT scan on patient Inoue today. I came to assess his suitability," he said. His head turned in Echizen's direction but it was impossible to tell whether he was looking at him as the lenses of his glasses were very thick.

"Bay 3 bed 6," Echizen said and the radiologist nodded and headed off.

* * *

><p>It was two in the afternoon and Kaidoh had just returned from patient Sasabe in bay 3 bed 5. His family had arrived and were demanding investigations and tests for their father. The two sons had loudly proclaimed the incompetence of the hospital, the ineptitude of the nursing staff and even the illegitimacy of Kaidoh's parentage. Needless to say, neither Kaidoh, Senior Nurse Kawamura nor Dr Ryuuzaki, the chief of medicine, was impressed.<p>

And a great many members of staff were also insulted, from Dr Tezuka, one of the highest consultants in the hospital, to Kachiru, a member of the domiciliary staff. So no one really protested when Dr Ryuuzaki marched from her office down to the gastroenterology ward, accompanied by two burly security guards to forcibly remove the two loudly protesting males. Ryuuji Sasabe looked on in self-righteous anger but deflated quickly when Dr Ryuuzaki, almost apoplectic with rage, stated that she would not tolerate abuse to her staff and if it happened again, it wouldn't just be the sons that were forcibly ejected from her hospital.

After witnessing that small piece of drama that afternoon, Kaidoh was thoroughly prepared for a mundane afternoon with form filling, jobs and apologising to people he had inadvertently scared with his strong looks. His planning was interrupted by the presence of Dr Inui, for the second time that day.

Now, it was rare for Dr Inui to leave the darkened confines of his scanning room, so seeing him once a day was a novelty. Seeing him twice was a portent of doom.

"Kaidoh, I wonder if I could have a word please?" he asked and Kaidoh hissed his affirmation. They went to the doctor's office and Kaidoh prepared himself for a long, winding monologue about something or other that he'd done incorrectly.

What he heard ruined his day.

* * *

><p>By the following day, everybody who worked on the ward knew. Possibly due to the loud mouths of both the ward clerk Tomoko and the porter Horio, possibly due to the way people just <em>know<em> these things in hospitals but it was undeniable that everyone knew. There was a solemn note to the air as everyone went about their business and Kaidoh's tasks were to be the same as every other day barring his newest task of contacting Dr Syuuichiro Oishi in the palliative care department so as to transfer patient information over to him.

Mamoru Inoue had end stage pancreatic cancer. Inoperable and incurable.

He had told Inoue yesterday and he had been so nice about it, it hurt. He had smiled and gently asked what could be done. He'd thanked Kaidoh for his time and care and praised him for his actions up to then.

And Kaidoh hated it. He wanted him to shout. To scream. To cry. He could deal with that. He could handle those emotions. But to be thanked for telling someone they were going to die, even though they felt completely healthy…

Kaidoh felt like he was the one dying.

He was sat there, like yesterday, behind the desk, but now he couldn't concentrate. Mr Sasabe's liver enzymes were becoming more and more deranged but he couldn't motivate himself to find an answer. He was preoccupied with Mr Inoue, who was meeting with the Clinical Nurse Specialist Eiji Kikumaru. The cheerful redhead had greeted him thirty minutes prior and they had gone to a quiet side room to talk.

Officially, he wasn't even Kaidoh's patient anymore, but that didn't mean he stopped caring about him.

A cough behind him dragged his attention to Echizen, who was stood there with a scowl on his face. However, underneath the scowl was a slight blush which told Kaidoh he'd recently been approached by Nurse Ryuuzaki. Again.

"Are you going to do anything about that Alk Phos?" he asked tonelessly, "Or are you going to wait for Mr Sasabe's liver to heal itself?"

And that was enough to prod Kaidoh back to his job. He hissed at Echizen but slouched out of the chair and went to Sasabe's bed to root out the problem with his deteriorating liver.

* * *

><p>It was two weeks before Inoue transferred out of the ward and to a specialist unit. In those two weeks, Kaidoh, Momo and Echizen interacted with him daily and treat him as they did all their patients. Kaidoh often took on Inoue's tests and examinations and they bonded with each other over a mutual love of tennis whilst Kaidoh pierced Inoue's veins for more blood.<p>

In that time, Inoue lost more weight. He began to look a little gaunt and paler. His appetite diminished and he was mostly on a liquid diet. By the time he transferred out, he looked nothing like the man that transferred in.

But he still smiled. He still thanked the doctors for their efforts and thanked the nurses for their care. He waved jauntily from his bed as he was wheeled out of the ward on his last day, smiling as his wife Saori (8) bowed insistently to the staff. Many people stopped what they were doing to bow or wave back, truly happy that they had met such a lovely man.

Then they remembered why he was being transferred. And the smiles drooped slightly.

* * *

><p>And then, life went on. Patients came and went from the ward, tended to with the loving care of the nursing staff and the wonderful bedside manner of the junior doctors. Inoue Mamoru became a much loved patient, spoken of with wistful tones.<p>

Kaidoh got on with his life. His day settled back into his previous routine and he didn't think much of Inoue until he received a phone call one afternoon whilst he was in the doctor's office doing paperwork.

"Ward 18, Kaidoh speaking," he said, still half concentrating on his TTO (9). He stopped everything soon enough.

"Kaidoh? It's Dr Oishi, from the palliative care department," the kind voice on the other end spoke. It was easy to tell why Oishi went into palliation since he had such a calming presence.

"Yes sir. Was there something you wanted?"

"It's regarding the patient you transferred to us two weeks ago? A Mamoru Inoue?"

"Yes, I remember. Is anything wrong?"

"Mr Inoue passed on this morning." Kaidoh's heart stopped for a moment. That wonderful, cheerful man had gone? How? When? How was his wife doing? All these questions raced through his head but the only thing he could actually say was:

"Oh."

"Before he passed, he wanted me to thank you for everything you did for him whilst he was under you care. Both he and his wife were grateful for everything you did for him," Oishi's kind voice washed over him as he sat there in disbelief. That man must have had more important things to do and think about but he wanted to thank the scary looking junior doctor who couldn't do anything?

Kaidoh was shocked.

"I have to go now Kaidoh, but I want you to know that he went as peacefully and as painlessly as possible. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me," Oishi concluded.

"Yes, thank you sir." And that was it. It was over.

Three hours later, Echizen entered the doctor's office to make a phone call before the evening hand over and he found Kaidoh, sitting shell-shocked at the desk, a half completed TTO in front of him on the computer. Echizen was never very good at talking to people but Kaidoh looked so lost he had to do something.

"Kaidoh?" he asked and watched as the other visibly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

He turned and Echizen caught a glimpse of his eyes. His slightly red rimmed eyes.

"Oh, Echizen. What did you want?" he gruffly asked, his throat sounding hoarse.

"What happened?"

Immediately, Kaidoh's walls raised and he became defensive, seemingly like the hackles rising on an angry cat. "It's nothing to do with you!"

Echizen met the apparent anger with sheer stubbornness and closed and locked the door, standing in front of it with his arms crossed. He said nothing but then again, he didn't need to say anything.

After a few agonising moments of silence and staring, Kaidoh deflated and told him what Oishi had said.

"I can't believe I'm acting like this. I'm a doctor. I've seen death before. I don't know why it's affecting me like this," he said, averting his gaze back to the wall.

Heaving a sigh, Echizen hefted himself forwards until he was stood in front of Kaidoh. A disconnected part of Kaidoh's mind noted that he was still around the same height as him whilst he was seated. What came out of Echizen's mouth afterwards shook Kaidoh to the core.

"I think I'd be more concerned if it didn't affect you. I'm not good at interacting with people. I know this but when I see a patient, I can talk to them and probably communicate better with them than I do with healthy people. I think it might be the same for you Kaidoh.

"So, people like us, we get more attached to our patients than people like Momo. It hits us harder."

His speech was interrupted by the sound of his bleep going off incessantly. Echizen paused and read the number and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, he turned back to Kaidoh for a mere moment.

"The best doctors are the ones who do not take their patient's deaths lightly. When you lose that feeling, when you can deal with the loss of a patient without flinching, you shouldn't be a doctor anymore. A doctor that doesn't care for their patients is no doctor.

"So, finish whatever you're doing in here and then come out and help me deal with the new patients. It's just Momo and myself out there at the moment, so I'm essentially doing everything myself whilst he flirts with Nurse Ann."

It was after the door had closed behind Echizen that Kaidoh heard a quiet whisper through the door that he knew came from his little colleague.

"Tragedies do not make you weak; they make you strong."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Kaidoh and Momo were in one of their infamous shouting matches about laziness, much to the delight of the patients and the horror of Nurse Ryuuzaki. Echizen was stood in the corner, smirking behind a set of notes.<p>

* * *

><p>(1) In Europe, there are a set of regulations stating that junior doctors are not allowed to work more than 48 hours in a single week. The European Working Time Directive is a load of cr*p. I have never done a 48 hour week. You stay as long as your patients need you to stay. End of.<p>

(2) True story. When I was on rotation on the gastro ward, there was no hand gel as some of the alcoholic patients kept drinking it for the ethanol.

(3) In the UK, Doctors are medical clinicians whereas Mister/Miss/Mrs are surgeons. That's just the way it is.

(4) The red bleep is the red bleep of doom AKA the crash bleep. When carrying this bleep, every time a patient's condition worsens, you have to go. It involves a lot of running and being late for your normal duties and scowling from consultants. Also, a bleep is a pager. No-one in hospital calls them pagers. Bleep sounds more fun.

(5) Ok, this paragraph probably needs an explanation. Jaundice: is when someone's skin and eyes turn yellowish because the body can't get rid of something called bilirubin. It is a non-specific sign. Usual causes: most commonly caused by gallstones or alcohol, but can be due to autoimmune conditions, infections, cancer or scorpion venom (that's the cause everyone remembers even though it's as rare as hen's teeth). Steatorrhoea: pale stools that float. U&Es: urea and electrolytes is a blood test for kidney function (sodium, potassium, creatinine, urea, etc). FBC: full blood count is a blood test for the components for blood (haemoglobin, number of cells, size of cells, white (infection) cells, etc). LFTs: liver function tests are blood tests for liver function (alkaline phosphatase, Alt, AST, bilirubin, amylase, etc). CT: computer tomography; also known as a CAT (computer assisted tomography) scan.

(6) Sasabe, the father, has no official first name. So now he is Ryuuji. End of.

(7) Medical Admissions Unit

(8) Yes, I married him to Shiba. I know about the age gap but hey, my story, my rules.

(9) TTO: To Take Out. The sheet they send you out with containing a summary of your stay for your normal doctor to look at.

* * *

><p>Next up: Polyhymina's Speech<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	7. Polyhymnia's Speech

Polyhymnia, the muse of sacred poetry, geometry and eloquence

Inspiration: Getting a letter through the post from Jane, my speech therapist from when I was little. Yep, I had a stammer.

Seigaku: I'll admit, I struggled to match Polyhymnia with any of the team but geometry immediately made me think of Inui. And beyond that, the structured language of Inui and the way he helps the other members of the team when he's their trainer he struck me as an eloquent person. And teaching is said to be the most sacred profession.

Note: I wrote this before the King's Speech (Weinstein Co. I do not own) came out but I realised that it was very similar afterwards. I was influenced by my experiences with speech therapy but I suppose they are pretty universal, barring the fact that I am not part of the British Monarchy. Also, with Melpomene's Tragedy, it was not my intent to dissuade anyone from persuing a career in the medical field. Some don't realise just how depressing it can be before they go into it though. Think of it as a head's up about one of the lesser known aspects of a medical job.

* * *

><p>Inui Sadaharu didn't know why he'd decided to become a speech therapist. It came out of nowhere; one moment, he'd been thinking of going to university to do sports medicine and the next moment, he was receiving his speech therapy qualification. It wasn't that he didn't want to help people, it was just he wasn't sure speech therapy was the best way he could do it. But, nevertheless, he joined a local hospital and began to help patients recovering from strokes and surgery to help them communicate again. People often commented that it was odd for him to be a speech therapist as he was always carrying a notebook around with him but it was perfectly obvious to him.<p>

If you couldn't speak it, write it and then he could help with the rest.

His career began working in a hospital but, after years of working, he'd branched out into private care as well. He kept his options open after all, that was the most logical option. He still worked with the patients in the hospital but he also took on patients outside hospital.

He still wasn't sure this was the job for him but he did it anyway and he did it well. He succeeded where others had failed and he worked hard. When he wasn't working in the hospital, he took on patients in his private clinic. It was just a small area with a waiting room tastefully decorated, and a room he could "work his magic in". It was just a large room, with high ceilings and some recording equipment to check progress. Most of his equipment was kept in the drawers of his wooden desk, a feature of the room he liked immensely. There were a couple of softly padded chairs for sitting and that was all. He had visited a few other speech therapist's offices and found them to be very sterile and clinical. As much as he enjoyed the clinical side of the job, it was something he'd found his patients didn't like.

He had a couple of appointments today with his established patients, one new consultation and then he was free for the meeting he had tonight with some of his school friends. At bang on nine am, there was a knock at his door from his secretary.

"Inui, your nine am is here," came the timid voice through the door.

"Thank you Ryuuzaki. Please send him in," was his reply and he watched the door open and his nine am slouch in. "Good morning Kaidoh, how are you today?"

"Fine," Kaidoh muttered.

"Well, let's see what we can do today for your lisp (1)."

* * *

><p>It was a long, hard day by the time Inui clocked out. He had spent at least three hours with Kaidoh trying to repair the damage his schoolmates had done to their previous weeks' work. Kaidoh had had a lisp for as long as he could remember and it wasn't too bad until he went to secondary school. There, he was teased intensely and as a result, his lisp had become more pronounced and worse until he stopped talking one day. His parents, not wealthy but incredibly concerned, brought him to Inui to see if speech therapy could help. Inui had been working with Kaidoh for a few months now and he'd noticed a definite trend in his progress. He would get better throughout the sessions on Wednesday, go back to school and then come back on Saturday, regressed and they would have to start from the beginning.<p>

He was going to recommend changing schools if this continued.

His second patient wasn't much better. Momoshiro was a tall, imposing secondary schooler who had only come to Inui because his mother had threatened to stop his allowance if he didn't. When the patient didn't want to be there, it showed in their progress. Momoshiro was slow to progress, his utter lack of motivation was frustrating. It wasn't as if Momoshiro's impediment was difficult to tackle. He had a curious speech where he repeated words unnecessarily. Redundancy it was called, repetition of a phrase with different words needlessly. All he needed to do was implement a redundancy check into Momoshiro, a time where he would pause prior to speaking to establish whether the next bit was needed.

If only it were that simple. Momoshiro didn't think he needed to be there so he didn't try very much. It was irritating.

But the day was over now and Inui could go and relax with those he grew up with. He had left his office and was walking to the restaurant where they would meet tonight. It was a fine evening and promised to be a tepid night when he would be walking back.

He arrived at the sushi restaurant they were to eat at and ducked under the curtained pole to enter. He briefly glanced around the room from behind his severely thick glasses and noticed that aside from himself and the staff, there were only five other people there. Two were dressed in suits and looked like they had also just come from work. Office work he would say if he were to hazard a guess.

The other three, two males and a single female, were sat around a table and eating in silence. They had the appearance of a family to Inui, who noticed the similarities between parents and child. He paid no more attention to them and walked to the table marked "reserved". That was one of the reasons they liked to come here; they could always reserve a table when they wanted to. The fact that they all liked the food was a rather moot point. The head cook was Kawamura Takashi, one of their school friends, so they were all slightly biased in opinion.

Inui had resigned himself to a long wait as he was, as usual, the first to arrive but it was barely ten minutes later that the door slid open once more to reveal two of his dining companions. The tall, stern looking brunet walked through, followed by a smaller, smiling brunet. Tezuka and Fuji had been metaphorically joined at the hip since Kindergarten and Inui had once suspected they were a little more than friends.

He raised a hand in greeting and began the benign pleasantries of conversation, inquiring about their lives since their last meeting. Knowing the intricacies of language, Inui often found himself unconsciously diagnosing his friends with different conditions. Tezuka, he decided, was flat and he had little variation in tone. Fuji had, well, Inui wasn't sure what Fuji had but he had to have something. Fuji was not normal.

As he was busy mentally dissecting his friends, the other members of their little party arrived. Eiji, an excitable redhead with a tendency for neologisms and echolalia of cats (2). Oishi, the worrier with raven hair, had cluttering and when he was worrying about someone or something, it was impossible to understand him (3). Kawamura approached their table to have a quick chat with them whilst depositing their water glasses on the table. He was a tall brunet, kind and shy who had taken over the family restaurant when his father retired. At school, Inui remembered that Kawamura was always shy and quiet and when he spoke it was a near silent whisper. Now, he'd gotten louder but he had two voices: his shy voice and his kitchen voice. He was truly a sight to behold in the kitchen, brandishing his knife with overwhelming enthusiasm and energy.

Inui shook himself out of these thoughts; he always did this. Whenever he was off work or gathering with his friends, his thoughts always drifted back to his profession. He unconsciously diagnosed people on the train, in shops or in the street. His profession ruled his life.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder and he turned to see Kawamura, smiling softly with a questioning look. Everyone else had ordered and they were looking at him expectantly. Muttering his apologies, he ordered and Kawamura went back to his kitchen to control, or contribute, to the madness contained within.

He watched, as he usually did when they got together, as everyone else contributed to the conversation. Even Tezuka was interacting tonight, discussing the finer points of Oishi's medical career with him. Tezuka had gone into sports physiotherapy so their fields crossed over a great deal. Fuji was a freelance photographer and Eiji had become a kindergarten teacher. They had all laughed at that, given that Eiji acted more like a child than his students did at times, but they all loved him. They had all gone to support him during a festival and saw all the children hanging off him, begging for attention from Eiji-sensei.

Kawamura came back with their food and spared them thirty minutes to sit with them and eat, trusting his other chefs. They sat, talking about small, inane things, enjoying their meals. Eiji had just engaged Fuji in a conversation about apples when Tezuka cleared his throat. Inui looked over to him, an act that was often hidden by his thick lenses, and the other motioned to the family seated at the table near them. Inui turned and saw it was the three people he'd seen on the way in; the mother, father and son. He looked back to Tezuka, who had caught Oishi's attention as well.

"Isn't that Samurai Nanjiroh?" he questioned, causing Oishi to stare at the family and stopped the apple conversing trio –the combined powers of Fuji and Eiji had dragged Kawamura into the conversation a long time ago- in their tracks. The combined heavy gazes of the five seated males were quickly noticed by the family, causing the mother to giggle and look away, the son to duck his head and shrink in his chair and the father to glare at them in response. As one, Inui and the rest bowed their heads in apology and went back to their meals.

When they had been in middle school, they had all been quite fervent tennis players and fans and so they were all familiar with Samurai Nanjiroh and his tennis career. If they had been in the restaurant ten years earlier, they would have swarmed over him in admiration with little care for his meal. As such, they were adults now and Oishi had a firm grip on the back of Eiji's shirt, so they didn't have to worry about flustering the retired tennis player.

That didn't stop Eiji pestering him once he'd put down his chopsticks.

* * *

><p>After the enjoyment of seeing his friends again, the exclamations that it had been too long and the promises to meet up again sooner than before that they would all break, they went their separate ways and Inui went back to his flat. It may have been the end of the week for everyone else, but he, Tezuka and Oishi all worked weekends as well. Most of Inui's patients were seen on weekends. He sat at the desk in his flat and booted up his computer, ready to look at his schedule for tomorrow. He had a few follow up patients, Kaidoh was one, but he had a new patient booked out for four hours that afternoon. There was no name in the slot, just "new" written there. Inui knew he hadn't booked them in, as he always wrote the patient's name there to keep track of how many appointments they had had to ensure they were progressing correctly.<p>

It must have been his receptionist one day. She was a nice girl, but sometimes her organisation skills left something to be desired. Inui sighed, closed the desktop down and got ready for bed.

It would be a surprise tomorrow then.

* * *

><p>His Saturday began like many of the previous Saturdays. He spent an hour with Kaidoh repairing the damage his classmates had done over the past few days and re teaching him his techniques. He formally requested that Kaidoh's parents changed his school and quickly if they ever wanted to see an improvement. He sat listening to his other patients as their lisps sounded less pronounced as their dictation improved.<p>

Time went quickly between patients until his afternoon session came and he would meet the elusive new patient of his. He had finished tidying his work space after the last patient as his intercom rang.

"Yes?" he asked, pushing his button also.

"Your appointment is here sir," Ryuuzaki's voice came through the line. Working with speech all day had led Inui to discovering the intonations of voices expertly and he could tell Ryuuzaki was excited about something but trying not to let it show.

As soon as his patient entered the room, he could see why she would be excited. He was a boy, approximately twelve years old with black hair and piercing golden brown eyes. He was accompanied by an adult, his father, as most of Inui's child patients were on their first consultation. Inui supposed the boy was someone Ryuuzaki would have found attractive were they the same age but he looked familiar somehow.

It was when he looked at the adult to introduce himself that it clicked, for looking back at him was Samurai Nanjiroh, arching a brow in his direction. It was then that Inui realised he had been staring for a long time and his cheeks reddened slightly.

"Ah, forgive me. I'm Inui and I am the speech therapist here. I understand you're here for my help."

Twenty minutes later, Inui was sat behind his desk with the two Echizens sat before him. His patient, Ryoma, had yet to speak but his father was very vocal it seemed.

"We've been to therapists in America but we had to move back to Japan for my wife's work. I heard from my old coach that you were one of the best, so I booked an appointment on the old hag's advice."

"I thank you for your confidence. Why do you need speech therapy?" he asked, directing his question to Ryoma. The boy remained silent and after a few minutes of prolonged tenseness, Nanjiroh opened his mouth once more.

"It's becau-" he didn't have a chance to finish before Inui raised his hand calmly.

"With all due respect Echizen-san, I want to hear from your son." Ryoma looked up, making eye contact for the first time that day and he looked very small, in Inui's large squishy armchairs and dwarfed by his father. He looked a little shocked that Inui wanted to talk to him and not his father.

"Because I stammer," he said, prolonging the words unnecessarily in the middle, struggling with his consonants (4). His statement was no more than a whisper but Inui had heard enough.

Admission that someone needed his help was the first step.

* * *

><p>Echizen became one of his more regular patients. He came every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday and unlike many others, he had a completely understanding household. Too understanding. He attended his session once with his mother and Inui watched as Echizen remained silent for the entire hour as his mother did everything for him with nary a word.<p>

Sometimes, parents could be part of the problem. They didn't want to embarrass or upset their son, so they didn't make him talk. This meant that Echizen didn't improve at home and didn't like the way he spoke. So he spoke less. It was a vicious cycle.

And Inui had to break it. It wasn't easy. In these situations, Inui found the parents reacted one of two ways. Either they were guilty that they had been exacerbating their child's problem, or they were angry that Inui thought they weren't helping.

The Echizen's had to break the mould though.

"Oh," Echizen Rinko said, looking upset but understanding, "I had thought that maybe it wasn't helping but I suppose I was just blinded. He's my son after all."

"I'll try to stop."

* * *

><p>Echizen came to his next session, glaring horribly at Inui. The heavily bespectacled speech therapist suspected that he had just spent the past four days speaking more than he had in the past four years. And he didn't look thankful for it.<p>

Inui had a lot of trouble with him that day. He had tried all his usual methods for relieving a stammer but nothing had had any effect so far. Usually, teaching people to roll their words and bouncing the syllables helped but Echizen was as stubborn vocally as he was in every other aspect of his life. Inui knew he'd been practicing –with parents like that, it would be impossible not to- but there didn't seem to be any progress.

He was musing over his problem as he went out to get a cup of coffee. As he returned to his office, Echizen was inside, as he customarily was. Unusually, he wasn't sat in the overly large armchair but stood by his desk, looking over the few things upon it. Inui knew he didn't keep anything of value on there, just a few pens, papers and two photos from his younger years.

It was the photographs Echizen was staring at. From the shape of the frame –one Eiji had given him, so it was brightly coloured and oddly shaped, two things everyone knew Inui disliked- it was the one of the middle school tennis team at nationals. The young boy was staring at it with intensity and desire, something Inui had never seen in his face before.

"Do you like tennis?" the words were out of his mouth before he had chance to stop them. Echizen jerked his head up and looked like a startled rabbit for a moment, then nodded. Inui smiled.

"Let's have this session on the court then."

Ryuuzaki-san looked a little shocked that Inui and Echizen were leaving the room together before their session finished but said nothing. They walked in silence to the nearby tennis courts, where they borrowed two racquets from some teenagers sitting on the bleachers. From there, they began to play.

Echizen had certainly inherited his father's talent for tennis as he slammed the ball back and forth with the energy of a ravenous wolf. He was hitting the fuzzy yellow ball, a smirk plastered on his face when the most amazing thing happened.

He spoke, with nary a stammer or a pause.

"Come on Inui-sensei. You've got a lot to work on."

* * *

><p>They returned to the building, hot, sweaty and tired but Inui felt they had made more progress today than they had since Echizen started attending his practice. He had been thoroughly decimated, losing spectacularly to this small twelve year old boy. He had noticed that Echizen spoke as fluidly as he did when he held a racquet and smashed a ball. It was intriguing.<p>

Inui could somewhat understand this; when someone was concentrating on something else, they lost many of the constraints that hold them back; a proven distraction technique. Inui knew the literature stated that stammering was a learned condition and so, distraction could works well on its severity, however, one could not be distracted twenty four hours a day. At some point, focus would return to the speech and thus, it was a temporary solution at best.

He took an unopened bottle of water from the drawer of his desk and handed it to the fatigued teenager. The black haired boy opened it gratefully and gulped down two thirds of the bottle. This made Inui smile a little inside; he may have been destroyed on the court but at least he managed to give the son of the world's first seed a run for his money (5).

"Well, that was enlightening," Inui said, sitting behind his desk and steepling his fingers together. Echizen was once again, sat before him, the sparkle in his eye gained from the tennis match dimming slightly as he knew they were returning to the topic of his voice. "You spoke wonderfully on the court, why so there and not in here?"

Echizen mumbled something into his chest that Inui stood no chance of hearing. When he was asked to repeat it, Echizen looked up and spoke, looking Inui in the eye with a distressed stare.

"Because on the court, no one is listening. They're too busy being crushed to listen to me talk." Echizen's issues clearly ran much deeper than just concentration. Here was someone who was stubborn and confident, but couldn't stand the thought of people listening to him so much that it caused him to stammer uncomfortably. Looking back, Inui could see that Echizen's vocal problem always seemed much worse when he was the centre of attention or expected to speak alone. When he was in a crowd or doing something that meant his speech wasn't focussed upon, his stammer was much more subdued.

Finally, they had something to work with. Hidden by his arched fingers, Inui smiled (6).

* * *

><p>They worked relentlessly, practicing in darkened rooms or with blindfolds. They perfected conversations between themselves and invited Echizen's family to participate in sessions. They built dialogue up as though it were children's blocks and they succeeded.<p>

Sometimes, Echizen reverted; they encountered their fair share of roadblocks and pitfalls, but they continued onwards to tackle them all.

Eventually, Echizen didn't need him anymore and their sessions ended.

* * *

><p>Ten years later, Inui received a letter in the post, along with six tickets to Wimbledon. He sat in the stands, along with his friends, and watched as his small, stammering student took the world's first seed from his father and stood on the podium.<p>

And he listened as he delivered his piece into the microphone to millions of spectators and viewers with nary a pause.

And Inui knew; this was why he had become a speech therapist. He was a healer and a teacher at the same time.

* * *

><p>(1) I have only one thing to say: "Fshuu"<p>

(2) Neologisms: making up new words, echolalia: mimicry of other people's words etc. Like babies learning to talk, except Eiji does it with the cat noise "nya".

(3) Cluttering: where people talk so fast because their thoughts are racing, they are nearly unintelligible.

(4) I could type this phonetically, but there would be an awful lot of hyphens in the sentence. Basically, a stammer is like a stutter but people tend to think stuttering is limited to starting words. Stammering is not. My stammer was horrible. I paused at the beginning of words, the middle if they had a consonant and I had difficultly pronouncing words with lots of consonant. If you want to hear a stammer, watch The King's Speech; I shan't type one as I already abuse English in many ways, I won't type it incorrectly.

(5) Yes, Nanjiroh is first seed. My story, my rules. The author has spoken!

(6) Gendo Ikari anyone?

* * *

><p>Next up: Terpsichore's Dance<p>

R&R

Bumble x


	8. Terpsichore's Dance

Terpsichore, the muse of dance and song

Inspiration: Watching Diversity on BGT.

Seigaku: Eiji. Completely, no contest. Active, exuberant and vigorous.

(This one warrants a little disclaimer at the top. I did ballroom when I was little however my knowledge of specific moves and names of moves is limited. I have done a little research and tried to describe as best as I could, but there is no substitute for knowing it intimately. So forgive any minor errors in this chapter and any help would be welcome.)

* * *

><p>Kikumaru Eiji walked into the dance studio with a slight trepidation. He didn't want to be here and it showed in the sheer reluctance he was lifting his feet with. His mother had signed him up for dance classes, thinking that he was too energetic and needed help managing his energy. Well, it was either dance classes or gymnastics and ever since that incident with the ribbon and Gakuto three years ago, Eiji had been avoiding even the thought of gymnastics.<p>

Eiji was not in the best of moods right now. He didn't understand why his mother was so fixated on his energy levels. Sure, he was slightly more excitable than other people and he didn't like to sit still, but Eiji thought that was what the tablets he was taking were for. They were supposed to make his ADHD better.

So why did he have to come here?

It wasn't that Eiji was nervous, or that he didn't like meeting new people, but dance? It was girly and a waste of time. It wasn't like a sport or something, where he could play. Dancing involved precise movements and _partners_, both of which Eiji disliked. Ever since Gakuto…

Eiji sighed heavily. He might as well go inside and get it over with. Maybe, if he went for a few weeks and still didn't like it, his mother would let up and let him not go, like with the tennis lessons.

He pushed open the clear, glass doors and walked inside. It wasn't what he was expecting, but then, he wasn't sure what to expect. It looked like the reception area of his doctor's office; long couches, potted plants and a stern faced receptionist with fierce looking glasses and an even fiercer expression.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrows rose as she looked him up and down. Eiji felt a bristle of indignation but ruthlessly squashed it and smiled vapidly.

"I'd like to sign up for lessons please," he said, in his politest voice. His "my mother is watching and that's the only reason why I haven't run out on you yet" voice.

"Really now?" she asked, her severe ponytail making her look even sterner than she already did. "Style?"

"Huh?" Eiji uttered, sounding completely vacant. The receptionist gave him an exasperated look.

"Do you really want to be here?" she said, not mincing her words whatsoever. Eiji looked surprised and she gave him a knowing look.

"Why don't you sit in on a couple of classes before deciding? I'll even give you a trial period. No fees until you can come back to me and say you really want to be here," her face softened as she said this, a look of understanding flashing over her features. In her pink tracksuit, she almost looked grandmotherly with that expression. Eiji just nodded dumbfounded, wondering how a receptionist could make promises like that without consulting the owner first, but didn't question it. It would be her head on the block after all.

She stood from behind the desk and leant over it. "Ok, going round the place. First door on the left, ballroom. Second, ballet. Third, tap. Fourth, modern. Fifth, jazz. Sixth, street. Pick which one you want to try and take it from there. Come back to me when you've made your decision."

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Eiji went to the dance studio, each time trying a different style. He hadn't found any appealing so far. Ballroom was too structured and ballet too precise. Tap, whilst being fun, the clicking hurt his ears and did nothing for his concentration problems. Modern was exciting, but the instructor reminded him of a pompous peacock, so he left that class. Jazz involved him moving his body into shapes it didn't like, and two words: jazz hands. Great to look at but evil to do.<p>

Everything was the same. He went to one lesson and he knew that it would be the same next week. And the week after. If there was one thing worse than precision for Eiji, it was repetition.

He'd successfully crossed of five of the six classes offered. He just had to come up with a valid reason to dislike street dancing and he could leave this whole ordeal behind him.

He walked back through the doors, giving a cocky wave to the receptionist, who was reading a tennis magazine, and slouched towards the last door. He stared for a moment, taking in the paper tacked on the door below the class' name and then walked through it.

It was time to face the final boss.

The beat of the music was pulsing in a pleasingly consistent manner when he stepped into the room. Like all the other rooms he'd visited during the month, one of the walls was completely mirrored and the floor was a highly polished wood.

In the centre of the room, there was a loose circle of seven people, crowding around another, who was dancing. The dancer was performing and Eiji approached the circle, entranced. It wasn't the strict, precise movements of ballroom or ballet, nor was it the restrained movements of modern. This was wild and uncontrolled. It was free.

The people stood in the circle were clapping and swaying to the beat as the teen in the centre spun on his side, faster and faster, increasing with each revolution. No sooner had his momentum started to slow, he stood and began to move his body at angles Eiji couldn't hope to achieve. Every motion was matched precisely to the beat of the music; hands, shoulders and even his head were in perfect co-ordination, jerking from side to side in perfect synchronicity.

Suddenly, the beat of the music changed from something found in night clubs to something found in his grandmother's vinyl collection. The sound of trumpets and guitars blasted through the speakers and the dancer in the middle of the circle bounced out of it, immediately switching with another person. The tall brunet who replaced the raven haired bandanna wearing one spun around the circle once or twice, only to pluck the short brunet out of it to join him. Once in the centre, they both twisted for a few moments, until they fell into a Charleston dance; all lindy-pop arms and fake running on the spot. Except it was different to what he knew as a Charleston. There was an undercurrent of modern, slight idiosyncrasies to the music in the electric keyboard and heavy drums. There were differences in the movements as well. Instead of the flowing actions of the 1920s, theirs were more defined and fierce.

For the first time since being told he had to do dance, he was excited.

It was after the two brunets had finished dancing that his presence was noticed. The tall raven haired teen with the heavy glasses looked directly at him and went to dim the music. Eiji was then the centre of attention and he was pinned under the gazes of eight strangers.

"Er, hi?" he waved uncertainly.

* * *

><p>The street dance class gelled with him really quickly. After being introduced to everyone, he was given the chance to get stuck in and Eiji couldn't wait. He was a little reticent though as he didn't know any moves for street dancing. He'd voiced this aloud when the others had resumed dancing.<p>

"You don't need to," the small brunet –Fuji- said. "Street dance is all about how you feel and expressing it to a beat. It's about letting go and being yourself."

There was a heavy hip-hop beat pulsing through the room at that point and Fuji directed his attention to the circle, where the shortest member –Echizen- was dancing.

"Echizen has trouble expressing himself. He is really bad at talking to people," Fuji said. "But, he can say everything when he dances. What's he saying Eiji?"

Eiji stared at Echizen, who was moving like a wild animal, flailing his arms with little finesse. He looked happy, his eyes closed and a small smirk on his lips. His face was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, but he looked content. Underneath, he could see more. Frustration was in his heavier than needed footwork, anger was in his sharp punctuations, and sadness was in his finger positions.

Eiji was amazed. He never knew so much could be conveyed through dance alone. Just movements and a beat. It was so simple, yet Eiji felt like he had been searching for this simplicity his whole life.

He had felt, his entire life, that he was moving at a higher speed than the rest of the world. He was moving at eight beats in a four beat world and here, for the first time, he could move at the speed he had always felt.

Eiji's mother loved him, that much was obvious. But sometimes, around the dinner table when Eiji had created yet another family ruckus, he could see the look in her eyes. The one that was silently wishing he would be more like his siblings.

He had been surrounded his whole life by people telling him to sit down, shut up and behave, so to suddenly be around people who said nothing when he was loud and smiled when he expressed himself was a novelty and Eiji was not about to let it go.

* * *

><p>"Back again are we?" the stout pink haired receptionist said, flicking through this month's copy of Pro Tennis. She looked up, he brown eyes stern but sparkling with mischief. She gave him that all knowing look many parents learnt at an early stage; the one that said "I knew this would happen". Eiji timidly approached the desk, mindful of his earlier cocky attitude towards her.<p>

"I'd like to sign up for the street class please," he said, thrusting forwards his finally completed application form and start up money. His mother had gladly given him the beginning fees, pleased by the eager look on his face.

The receptionist took the form and the envelope, sliding both of them into a drawer. "Finally found one you liked then?" she questioned and Eiji flushed with excitement, nodding.

"Good. You know where the class is." As Eiji turned to walk back to the classroom, he heard her call out behind him.

"Everyone else in that class signed up the same way you did."

He entered, much less nervous than the previous times he'd passed the door and it's stickered notice and was met with grins and waves from many of the group members. Immediately smiling upon seeing them, his new friends, he bounced over to where they had gathered. Momo, a tall black haired boy, was helping Echizen stretch and Kaidoh, the boy with the bandanna, was discussing something with Inui, the heavily bespectacled boy. Fuji was off to one side, lightly chatting to Kawamura, the tall brunet, and Tezuka, the bespectacled brunet, was discussing something with Oishi, the black haired boy with an unusual hairstyle. Eiji made his way over to Fuji and Kawamura and joined their conversation. After about ten minutes of inactivity, he wondered why no-one was practicing.

"We're waiting for the instructor," Kawamura said kindly. "It's one of the nights she teaches, whereas other nights are for spontaneous practice, as she calls it."

This was something Eiji had not expected. He did not know that this class had a teacher in it. It suddenly seemed a lot less free than before. No sooner had his hopes begun to sink like a heavily laden balloon than the door opened and the instructor walked in. His eyes widened as he took in the frumpy pink tracksuit and the severe ponytail.

The receptionist was not a receptionist. She was an instructor.

He glanced across to Fuji who was nodding and he leant over to whisper in Eiji's ear. "That's Ryuuzaki-sensei. She's the instructor."

Ryuuzaki as in Ryuuzaki's dance studio? Even worse, Eiji thought. She wasn't a receptionist, but an instructor and owner of the studio. It was at that moment that Eiji realised how a fish must feel, for he was sure he was doing a very good impression of one.

"Well class. As you can see, we have a new member today. This is Eiji, he signed up formally a few moments ago," she said, smirking in his direction as she gave him an unnecessary sweep of her hand. "Today we'll be working on anger."

At these words, the members of the class gathered in a loose circle around her and she turned on the sound system. Instantly the room was filled with the angry tinkling of piano keys and the members began to move in time. Eiji moved in time with the rest, entirely unsure of what he should be doing.

"So," Ryuuzaki-sensei began, "who has felt angry?" There was a pause when everyone in the room raised their hands, Eiji included. "And what did you do? There are many ways to express your anger. You can shout, scream, bend with it, hold on to it or let it go. But that's not what this is about."

"Think about when you were angry. Feel it once again," she began circling the swaying group, her revolutions getting faster and faster with the beat. She watched them and when they were ready –"now express it." And she pushed Tezuka into the middle of the circle.

Eiji kept moving with the beat and watched, enthralled as Tezuka danced. Eiji went to the same school as Tezuka and he was known as a brick wall because of his lack of emotions. Here he was displaying so much anger it was unbelievable. Eiji could see it; he could see the frustrations, the hurtful words and actions, the ire Tezuka felt towards the world. It was right there for everyone to see.

And then, amidst the clashing keys and haggard breaths, Eiji learned something. He learned that dance was one of the most revealing things someone could do. Here was his classmate's soul, laid bare for all to see and judge; stripped naked by his movements. And he was one of those chosen to witness this phenomenon.

He was so stricken by his revelation that he was mildly unprepared for the beat to change. Gone were the crashing keys and in their place was a heavy drum beat, matching Eiji's heartbeat with an uncanny ability. He could hear the music but more so, he could feel it. It reverberated through every bone in his body, even his teeth, until he was nothing more than the beat.

It was unexpected, the gentle push on his back, but not unwanted. He moved with the push into the circle and began to move with the beat, _his_ beat. He stomped his feet with anger at Gakuto, he jerked from side to side as he imagined his family pulling him. He bowed his head in shame even though he unrepentantly lashed out with his hands. His arms became whipcords that flung his hands like weapons; his legs became the only thing keeping him grounded. And when all was said and done, when the deafening beat had quietened, Eiji stood there, amid a circle of peers, naked for them to see and judge.

He had never felt so vulnerable.

He had never felt so scared.

He had never felt so _alive_.

* * *

><p>He soon found that not only Tezuka went to his school, but all the others did as well. They were people he had never spoken to before but he had seen something deep inside them; a secret place shared by ten people. He began to speak to them as school, sharing particularly strong friendships with Oishi and Fuji. His mother was delighted, given that he was calmer at home, doing better with his studies and he had friends now.<p>

He himself was happier than ever before. He could go somewhere for three nights a week and be himself. Not the person his parents wanted, not the person society wanted but himself. Nothing more, nothing less. The other four nights, he mostly spent with the people who had seen and accepted him. They never asked him to quieten down in the restaurants, they never told him to behave in the park. He was happy and content.

Until one day.

The entire group had gotten together in the park and they were simply sat, filling their time with doing nothing. Eiji and Fuji had managed to drag Echizen onto the swing set, where he was being pushed by Momo, a disgruntled look on his face. Fuji and Eiji entertained themselves on the monkey bars whilst the others laid on the grassy floor, simply enjoying the silence.

Mid way through their idyllic afternoon, Eiji's personal demon came walking past their group. Gakuto hadn't changed much over the years, he had gotten taller but still kept his hair in the same bob like before. He was walking with someone else, a blue haired boy with glasses, and they seemed to almost miss them completely until Gakuto caught sight of Eiji's distinct hair colour.

Eiji saw as he smiled evilly and began to make his way over to the playground. Eiji looked panicked for a moment, so much so that Fuji turned to where he was looking.

"So," Gakuto said, having reached them. He was standing a foot in front of where Eiji was sat and looking down upon the seated redhead with an unidentifiable look. "How are you?"

"Fine," was Eiji's sullen response. Before he'd even had a chance to include the polite "and you?" Gakuto was off, describing how much more exciting his life was now.

"Oh by the way," he waved a negligent hand behind him to the blue haired boy, "this is Yuushi. He's my new partner." And like that, Eiji had been replaced. No months of searching, no despondency, just "my new partner."

It made Eiji feel that all those months of skinned knees and torn elbows and arguments had been for naught. He looked down at the ground, disproportionately upset by what Gakuto had said. He missed when Gakuto asked who his friends were. But Fuji didn't.

"We're his street dance group," he said, a purely vulpine smile on his face. Gakuto's face fell slightly at the disinterested response from Fuji.

"Oh. I'm Gakuto," he regained a little of his smile, "I'm sure Eiji must have mentioned me."

"Actually, this is the first time I've heard the name," was Fuji's cool, callous response. Eiji and the rest watched from the sidelines, imagining this to be like a conversation between ex and current girlfriends. Any fight that Fuji had deemed worthy of participating in, they were staying well away from.

After ten minutes of verbal tennis, Gakuto left, his tail between his legs, Yuushi following behind like a puppy. Fuji turned to Eiji, who flinched slightly at the intense look in his electric blue eyes.

"You're one of us now Eiji. That's all that matters."

* * *

><p>"Evening, Ryuuzaki-sensei," Eiji called as he walked into the studio. He was dressed as usual, in loose trousers and a t-shirt, his sneakers still on. He waved jauntily as he passed, leaving the dance instructor to her magazine. He walked down the corridor, stopping at the final door and pushed it open, smiling like usual at the posted sign. He was loudly greeted by the others as they prepared for another night's freedom, the door swinging shut behind him.<p>

All that was left was a closed wooden door, a throbbing beat and the door's stickered notice

"Dream as though you'll live forever. Live as though you'll die today. And dance like no-one's watching." (1)

* * *

><p>(1) This is a combination of two quotes. This first "Dream as though you'll live forever, live as though you'll die today" is by James Dean and the second "Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like no-one is watching" is by Satchel Paige<p>

Next Up: Thalia's Comedy

R&R

Bumble


	9. Thalia's Comedy

Sorry for the lack of updates; this has been my first weekend off since the last update as I have been on call. So, as a compromise, here are the final two chapters of Inspiring the Creation.

Happy Jubilee Weekend, to all my fellow Brits x

* * *

><p>Thalia, the muse of comedy<p>

Inspiration: My friend trying to get someone to laugh one day and just telling joke after joke until they cracked a smile.

Seigaku: I chose Momo for this as he seemed to be the "comic relief" character of Seigaku. To me, it also seems that he hides behind his comedy and stupidity sometimes. And plus, comedy and tragedy are seen as opposites and if Kaidoh was tragedy, well…

Note: This one was really difficult for me to write for many reasons. 1. My sense of humour is the stereotypical dry English sarcastic type. 2. I am the type of person who finds this funny: "If I were a DNA protein, I'd be heliocase so I could unzip your genes." 3. I have a strong inability to be funny when I'm trying to be funny.

* * *

><p>Raucous laughter echoed around the room as the crowd of people descended into uncontrollable fits of giggles. It was all centred around one desk, situated at the back of a classroom, where a boy with spiky black hair and violet eyes was sat. He'd just finished recounting a tale of his weekend and was delighted when he'd managed to make people laugh. Momoshiro Takeshi liked to make people laugh. It made him feel happy as well; the contagious nature of humour made him feel lighter and immediately made his concerns float away.<p>

To be brutally honest, Momo didn't think he had much going for himself. He wasn't smart and he wasn't that great at sports beside tennis. At home, his parents seemed to like his little sisters better than him and, while he had never held it against any of them, he was a little upset. It seemed from a very early age that Momo was sent into a life of banal achievements. Until he discovered laughter.

He loved making people laugh. It was the highlight of his day to encourage an unrestrained crow from a classmate or hear the muffled giggles of the cute girls in his class. He had found out early on that it was one of the few things he was good at and so, he lived up to it.

He became the class joker. He would do anything for a laugh and a joke. He would eat in class and purposefully get caught by his teachers to elicit muffled sniggers from the surrounding teens. He would call loudly and idiotically to the old lady at the shop to hear the cackles of his upper and under classmen. He would do anything.

Of course his grades suffered because of this and he had had more detentions than most people his age but it was all worth it. All worth it for that laughter.

Or so he thought.

* * *

><p>It was the start of a typical Monday morning for Momo. He had just sat down at his desk, telling a really bad pun to the five or so girls sitting across from him and everyone was gearing up for the start of the lesson. He glanced at the board, his violet eyes sleepy as this teacher walked in.<p>

He wasn't a man with a particularly good sense of humour, Momo knew, but his over-reaction to everything meant that he was funny when he wasn't trying to be. The teacher approached the desk at the front, his suit crinkling with his movements and stood there expectantly. Like all dutiful students, they greeted him for the new day and a smile worked its way onto his badly toupee'd head.

"We have a new student joining us today," he began, noting the whispers that circled the classroom like the buzzing of many insects. He called out to the door, "you can come in now."

Momo watched with rapt attention as the new student entered. His eyes widened as he took in the slouching form and the intense grey eyes. For a fifteen year old boy, he had a concentration that was unfamiliar to many and he seemed as though he was very much a "no nonsense" individual.

"Class, this is Kaidoh Kaoru. Please make him feel welcome." Kaidoh executed a quick bow and turned to the teacher, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

"Fshuu, where do I sit?" he said in a low voice, somewhat unexpected for his age.

"Over there. There is a seat next to Momoshirou," the teacher said and Momo raised his hand like a good little lemming. Kaidoh slouched over to the seat and dropped into it as though he was a marionette whose strings had all been cut. He bent over to retrieve his writing things and sat, poised for the lesson to begin. Momo leant over to him when the teacher's back was turned.

"Hi, I'm Momoshirou but everyone calls me Momo," he said, his hand stretched out in welcome. Kaidoh looked at his fingers but didn't take up his handshake.

"You should be paying attention," were the only words he said in response.

And like that, Momo was insignificant once more.

* * *

><p>During the break between classes, Momo once more found his desk surrounded by his peers. They stared at him with expectant looks on their faces, waiting for what he did every break time. Momo slapped his palm with his fist, faking a look of revelation.<p>

"Oh, I just realised, tofu isn't that great. It's just a curd to me," he said, his finger aloft with intelligence. The rest of the class burst into peals of laughter and Momo smiled in response. Until he saw Kaidoh, still sat in his chair, the same stony expression on his face as before.

He leant over to him and whispered "don't you get it?" He received a blank look in response.

"A curd? Occurred?" Momo said, explaining the joke. Kaidoh merely raised his eyebrow at Momo, looking at him like an exasperated parent.

And with one sentence, he crushed Momo's life.

"I understood the pun; I just didn't find it funny."

* * *

><p>After that moment, Momo had made it his life's mission to make Kaidoh laugh at something he did. It was the only way he could see himself regaining the only thing in his lift that he was exceptional ad. It consumed his whole being until he had forgotten everything else. He grades slipped even more that they had originally been and he began to neglect his extracurricular activities barring tennis. The only reason he maintained his tennis was that Kaidoh had joined the club three days after he transferred.<p>

His humour devolved from witty puns to humorous insults that he exchanged with Kaidoh on a daily basis. He argued with him, competed with him and shouted at him that made everyone else laugh but still left Kaidoh as stony and as angry as he had been the first time he had met him.

Momo had learnt over the years that the best way to make people laugh was to know a bit about them and target that way. He knew that his English class loved puns, whereas his tennis friends were more fond of off-the-cuff quips. And in that way, he knew about Kaidoh; he looked into him to make him laugh.

He knew that Kaidoh's family must love him dearly to make him that lunch every day. He knew that Kaidoh did not have a bleak outlook on life, but was stonily realistic about everything. He knew that Kaidoh laughed at nothing during school hours in the first year he spent with them.

He knew so many little trivial facts about him that it was unbelievable they weren't friends. But then again, friendship wasn't what Momo was aiming for because friendship wasn't his forte. Comedy was. And Kaidoh was just too different.

He had been bemoaning his lack of success one day in the tennis clubroom with the other regulars barring Kaidoh, who had gone to practice "as he should". They were crowded around the smallish trestle table, eating their lunches and Momo had been "quietly" ranting to Kawamura, the kind brunet, about his comedy issues. However, let it be known to all that Momo and quiet were not entities that belonged anywhere near one another for fear that Momo would completely obliterate the existence of quiet.

Thus, the others around the table were included in the conversation as well, even Eiji, who had been using Oishi as a climbing frame in an attempt to get his lunchbox from the top of his locker where he had thrown it that morning in his rush to get to practice on time. Momo became the centre of attention and he was tempted to make a joke at his own expense but couldn't muster up the energy. He had been so focussed on making Kaidoh laugh that everything else was secondary. Even making everyone else laugh.

Momo placed his head on his folded arms, sighing with displeasure. Kaidoh had taken over his life and the only way to make it stop would be to get him to laugh.

"Why doesn't he find me funny?" Momo asked the others, adding a whine to the end of the question, making him sound like a petulant child. The others exchanged glances, their faces concerned, except for Echizen and Tezuka. Mostly because Tezuka had only one facial expression –which was "stone"- and because what had Echizen's full attention was his lunch. Yes sir, he didn't care even a little bit about why Momo was so upset.

Not one bit.

"Humour, like most things, is due to patterns," Inui-sempai lectured, oblivious to the slightly glazed look in Momo's eyes. "Your brain perceives a pattern in most things, like the beginning of a story. When there is an abrupt or unexpected change to that pattern, the brain interprets this as humour. When the brain doesn't follow the initial pattern or has become so accustomed to the pattern's change, the subject is no longer interpreted as funny."

Momo's brain had literally switched off, clearly evident in his blank glaze. Even Eiji was looking at Oishi in confusion. Fuji decided he was needed to translate into a human language as opposed to Inui's encyclopaedic explanation. "Basically, Kaidoh doesn't laugh at you because he doesn't find you funny."

Eiji perked up at this. "Maybe we can help, Momo! He might find our jokes funny! Mother, we have to help him!" He said pointedly to Oishi, who flushed a little at being termed the mother of the group. Eventually, he just grinned as well and rolled with it.

"Ask your Father," he offhandedly said, gesturing to Tezuka, who simply raised an eyebrow in response. Most of the group began to laugh at the comedic truthfulness that they were a severely dysfunctional family and with a sunny smile, Eiji was off, dragging Oishi with him to devise jokes that would make Kaidoh laugh. Everyone else seemed to take this as a turning point also and they all began to disperse.

Momo was left standing on his own, the little first year stood next to him. Echizen sighed, identifying a little with Kaidoh before he slouched away, his parting words drifting lazily behind him.

"Why does he have to laugh to be happy?"

* * *

><p>Momo was beginning to doubt whether this was actually a good idea. After Eiji's exuberant decision the other day, most of the members of the tennis team had decided to help on his task. The only two that didn't were, shockingly, Tezuka and Echizen. Momo thought that it was because combined, the two had the emotional range of a pigeon and as such, their senses of humour were more limited than Kaidoh's.<p>

That made him pause for a minute. Tezuka never laughed at his jokes and all he ever got out of Echizen was a derisive smirk every once and a while, so why did he never pester them like he did with Kaidoh?

He sighed a little. Tezuka was his captain and so, it was a little expected for him to be slightly distant and even though Echizen rarely laughed, his smirks were an indication enough that he was amused and he and Momo shared a few interests whereas Kaidoh was his complete opposite.

They agreed on almost nothing and we so different. Something about him just urged Momo to rile the other up, to get a response and he didn't really understand it. He just had to.

But now, as Momo watched Eiji make an idiot out of himself, Kaidoh and everyone around them including Oishi –even though he wasn't there, but by extension of it being Eiji, Oishi was included- by trying to catch a fish dressed in a cat costume, it was starting to seem like a really bad idea. Momo's brain died a little upon seeing that and he ignored the little voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Echizen, that he didn't have much of it to use effectively, let alone lose.

He watched from the sidelines as Kaidoh flushed a delicate colour but still refused to loosen a smile let alone a laugh and brusquely walked away, hands firmly thrust in his pockets. A trail of giggles followed him, mostly aimed at Eiji, but Momo could almost feel the sympathetic embarrassment Kaidoh must have been feeling.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

* * *

><p>It was a terrible idea. Momo walked around cursing his mind for ever asking the tennis club for help. 'Don't blame me for this one,' his mind responded, still sounding like his snarky kouhai, 'this was <em>all<em> you. I had nothing to do with this.'

It seemed that the tennis club had underestimated their propensity for imitation. Once the popular members of the tennis club were witnessed to be doing something, other members of the student body latched on to the idea like lemmings.

So, what had been an idea to get a little help from his friends to get someone to laugh had devolved into what Momo was witnessing in the cafeteria that day. Many other students were pestering Kaidoh, trying to get his attention through various means and not all of them were as lighthearted as Eiji dressing up like the cat he so often imitated.

It seemed that some of the students hadn't fully grasped what the tennis club was aiming for and had simply thought they had chosen to embarrass and irritate Kaidoh. And that led to the current situation of Momo stood on the peripheries of the large room, watching silently, upset, as some of his classmates effectively bullied Kaidoh into leaving the room hungry.

He didn't want to believe that he'd been the cause of this but it was unrefutable. His simple desire to make Kaidoh laugh was ruining his school year. And although he didn't realise it, it had ruined Momo's as well.

Christ, the karmic backlash from this was going to be incredible, he distantly thought. He was going to check himself into a psychiatric facility if he kept hearing Echizen's voice in his head, cackling in a way he had never heard from the real Echizen.

* * *

><p>It was the end of a very long week and Momo had become very despondent. Everything was falling apart; he couldn't make Kaidoh laugh, he was the active cause for what was making Kaidoh's life hard and his school life, social life and even home life were suffering because of all this. He didn't know what to do and so, in a rare moment of clarity, he decided to bite the bullet and accept whatever would be doled out to him by doing something that would make his life a living hell for the next fifteen to twenty-five years, depending on if there was photographic evidence.<p>

"Think of it this way Momo," Fuji said, patiently sitting next to Momo on the park bench, calmly eating the ice-cream that had been bought for him with his omnipresent fox smile on his face, "if I were to describe you, what would you say?"

"Humour," was the immediate response. There was no need to think about it, after all, Momo had nothing else going for him.

"And Kaidoh?" Momo paused for a brief moment, unable to articulate what Kaidoh was. He was realistic but always seemed to have a downward slant on things, stoic but a little sad.

"He always looks sad," he finally settled on.

"So you see yourself and Kaidoh as humour and sadness. Opposites right?" Fuji asked and Momo nodded, not really understanding what he was getting at. "I see you as comedy and tragedy. And there is a fine line between those. They are shockingly similar if you think about it." And then he walked away.

Him and Kaidoh were similar? That's just not possible. After all, Momo was all smiles and laughter whereas Kaidoh was…

But when he thought about it, Momo realised that _he_ wasn't smiles and laughter. He was other people's smiles and laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed at another's jokes nor could he remember laughing spontaneously. He was so focussed on making others laugh he had not let himself laugh in years. He couldn't remember the last time he was simply happy.

* * *

><p>So he stopped. He ceased trying to make Kaidoh laugh, he stopped trying to make everyone else laugh. He became more genuine, his smiles more natural and slowly, Kaidoh's life became more bearable. Eventually, they even became something akin to friends. Or at least an extremely good tennis doubles team.<p>

And the voice in his head slowly vanished into nothingness, relieving Momo greaetly because, let's face it, if Echizen was his Jimney Cricket, he would have become much more screwed up than he already was.

* * *

><p>Years later, they were playing tennis on one of the street courts. Early on, Momo and Kaidoh found that they made a rather good doubles team and so, they were steadily decimating the other pairs. In the lull between matches, they were casually talking when a new pair approached them. It was then that Momo discovered the horrific truth.<p>

He must have been impossible to be around in school.

The new pair were determined to win by making them laugh themselves into mistakes. They wore strange headgear and flirted outrageously to get them to focus on them and not the ball. And the levels of annoyance and anger that flowed through Momo made him realised that this must have been what Kaidoh was feeling all those years ago when he had been persistent in his quest to make him laugh.

Once they had defeated the other pair, they sat on the bleachers, drinking some luminous sports drink and leaning backwards. Kaidoh had abandoned his sweaty bandanna and was gazing at the sky with his piercing grey eyes.

"Sorry," Momo muttered, his voice a grumbling whisper. Kaidoh looked at him in confusion. "About school, you know, pestering you all the time. It must been so irritating." With that he sighed and lay himself fully on the bench, directing his words to the vast sky.

"I've just had to withstand for two hours what I put you through for two years and I was thinking about commiting homicide or suicide, depending what the glasses wearing one said next." His gaze was so focussed on the sky that he didn't notice when Kaidoh turned to him and his face softened.

"It wasn't so bad." Was the curt response from the grey eyed one. He stood, deciding he had rested enough and was about to step away from Momo and go home. He paused slightly before doing so.

"Do you remember anything from our English Literature class?" Kaidoh asked.

"I took English Lit?" Momo questioned, genuinely not remembering ever taking such a class. Kaidoh sighed in exasperation. He walked right into that one.

"Did you know that in Shakespearian plays, comedies were classified as all those that weren't tragedies? Some weren't funny and a few were not even remotely happy but the simple lack of tragedy made them comedies. You don't have to be laughing to be happy; you don't have to be making others laugh to make others happy. Sometimes just trying is enough even if they aren't laughing."

And with a meaningful glance that Momo was sure he missed half the unspoken significance of, Kaidoh had left, returning to his university life. Momo remained, laid on the hard, uncomfortable bench, thinking over the significance he did catch.

And he smiled, also getting up and dusting himself off.

* * *

><p>Kaidoh sat, slightly isolated from everyone, in the lecture hall for his first class of his second year. He had everything prepared and was simply waiting for the lecturer to arrive. As usual, no-one spoke to him, intimidated by his presence and he was satisfied with that.<p>

It wasn't until ten minutes later that a bag dropped down next to him and a body took up the empty seat. He looked to his side and saw smiling violet eyes looking back at him.

"Hey," Momo said, looking like he had every right to be there. Kaidoh arched a thin eyebrow at him.

"I took last year externally and joined the second years. Looks like you're stuck with me."

And after several years, numerous attempts and stupid acts, Kaidoh let loose a small, Mona Lisa smile at Momo.

Yes, sometimes trying is enough.

* * *

><p>Next Up: Urania's Stars<p>

R&R Bumble x


	10. Urania's Stars

Urania, the muse of astronomy and future

Inspiration: Star Trek XI, the reboot. Mmmm, Chris Pine. There are a lot of ST references in this chapter, so a blanket disclaimer at the top. I don't own Star Trek or any of its affiliations.

Seigaku: I'm interpreting a lot with this one, but Echizen burst into Seigaku and altered it much like a comet or a star would. He is also slightly untouchable, again like a star, and aloof and distant from the rest.

* * *

><p>Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the star ship Seigaku. Its five-year mission: to explore strange, new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilisations, to boldly go where no man has gone before (1).<p>

* * *

><p>Captain Tezuka Kunimitsu sighed silently as he walked briskly towards Admiral Ryuuzaki's office. He had just gotten back from the Mars station after being promoted. After being a Commander for three years, he was getting his own ship. And not just any ship, the reporting orders were for the flagship, the USS Seigaku. Tezuka was pleased and proud of this promotion and he was delighted when he was told he would be able to select key members for his crew. He had already chosen Commander Oishi Syuuichirou as his first officer, and Lieutenant Kikumaru Eiji as head of communications. He wanted Lieutenant-Commander Inui Sadaharu as his science officer, Ensign Momoshiro Takeshi for engineering and Ensign Kaidoh Kaoru for weapons and had very politely phrased a missive to their current captains requesting them. He had requested Doctor Kawamura Takashi and he was in the process of stealing Lieutenant-Commander Fuji Syuusuke from the USS Chiba as his navigations officer.<p>

He was still missing a pilot though.

"Don't worry about it," Admiral Ryuuzaki had said in her communication, "I've found you a good one. Report to my office at 0800 (2) hours tomorrow and I'll introduce you.

Tezuka wasn't sure. All the good pilots he knew of were assigned to other ships and were unattainable. The only unassigned pilot he was aware of was Cadet Arai, who was unassigned for a reason; he had a work ethic that wouldn't translate to Tezuka's ship.

If she gave him Arai, he would give him back without pause. Tezuka was planning on running a very tight ship and he couldn't afford carelessness, especially with the pilot.

He straightened his golden shirt as he stood outside the sliding door to Admiral Ryuuzaki's office, still a little uncomfortable with the new pips on his collar, unused to their weight.

He waited for entry and when it was granted, he was almost dreading what he would find inside. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't what he found inside.

* * *

><p>Three days later, the USS Seigaku was docked at Deep Space Nine, preparing to leave. It would leave the station and warp to the uncharted regions of space within two hours so most of the crew was already on board, checking their stations and supplies, making sure they were adequate.<p>

"Oishi!" came the loud cry from down the corridor and the new Commander turned, only to fall to the floor from the impact of someone colliding with him. The bright red hair and green skin of an Orion was plastered in front of him. Since Oishi only knew one Orion well enough to be thrown to the floor, it had to be Eiji.

"Hello Eiji. How have you been?" And with that, the communications officer started on a long, winding monologue of how he was, what he'd done, and 'oh it was so nice to see you again Oishi' and did he want to partake of the traditional Orion greeting?

Oishi turned a shade of red to match Eiji's uniform and stammered out an excuse. Later, when he had calmed down, he was certain that the phrase "saving himself for marriage" had been stuttered and he flushed again at the memory.

They both made their way to the bridge, after stopping off at sickbay to say hello to Kawamura, and checked out their stations. Oishi didn't have a station, _per se_, but given his position as First Officer and ship's counsellor, he was given a seat on the bridge anyway. He quickly glanced around and saw that the prodigal Fuji was seated at the navigation station already, smiling worryingly as he checked over star charts.

He greeted Inui as Eiji sat down and put in his earphone, checking the frequencies. Inui was a tall Vulcan who had decided to follow in the footsteps of Ambassador Spock and join Starfleet. He was also an anomaly, like the Captain, in that he wore glasses. Oishi knew Tezuka wore them because he was allergic to Rentax (3) but, as far as he was aware, Inui had perfect eyesight. Eventually, the sight of those glasses perched on those pointed ears would drive Oishi to asking Inui why he wore them. He would be told that it was the most logical method of recording conversations and that the data chip in the glasses could then be uploaded into his padd for data collection, and Oishi would leave the topic well alone.

He saw the strong, silent Kaidoh at the weapons console, steely eyes focussed entirely on the inventory on the screen. Oishi thanked Tezuka's wisdom at getting both Kaidoh and Momo on board but making sure that they spent the majority of their time on entirely different decks. Their skills were unparalleled but their fights and verbal spars were also unparalleled, even infamous across the whole alpha quadrant. Bane, house of Rokkaku, the strong and mighty Klingon whom Oishi had met had almost fled in fear when the two began fighting.

Oishi glanced nervously over to the empty pilot's console and chair. They were due to set off in under two hours and Oishi still hadn't met the pilot. He'd contacted Tezuka the previous evening to ask about the mysterious pilot but all he'd found out was that yes they had one and he'd be there tomorrow and to stop worrying.

Oishi thought Tezuka knew him better than that. Oishi would always worry. It's what made him a good First Officer.

One hour and twenty seven minutes later, Tezuka strode onto the bridge and sat authoritatively in his chair. He was dressed crisply in his golden uniform and calmly asked his bridge officers for an update. They went around the room systematically but there was a pause after Fuji had given his piece, everyone subconsciously waiting for the absent pilot's report.

After a few moments, Eiji decided to carry on with the report, skipping the absentee pilot. After all the information had been conveyed, Tezuka paused.

"I'm sure you've all noticed that we're down a member of our crew. Admiral Ryuuzaki recommended a pilot for us and he will be here in a few moments," he said and, no sooner had the words left his mouth, the turbo lift doors opened and attracted the attention of the entire bridge. All eyes turned and saw the short raven haired golden shirted man enter, the two pips on his collar denoting him as a Lieutenant. His dark, black as jet hair was mirrored by his intense golden eyes.

"Aldean?" Inui asked, completely emotionlessly and the newcomer's eyes flickered over to him.

"Vulcan," was the response and the Inui eyed the other up and down, as much as a race of emotionally repressed touch telepaths could.

"Not entirely Aldean though; Aldean males are infertile. Hybrid then," was the conclusion Inui came to and the "hybrid" smirked.

"He looks Betazoid," Fuji smiled from his station, enjoying the drama that was unfolding before him, and the smirk grew even wider.

"Well determined. Is that my station?" this was directed to Tezuka in reference to the empty console at Fuji's left. Tezuka gave a curt nod and the lieutenant walked to it and sat down, performing his checks with deft fingers.

"Lieutenant Echizen Ryoma," Tezuka began to introduce him when it was clear he wouldn't do so himself, "Half-Betazoid, half-Aldean and our new pilot."

After Echizen checked his station and reported back to Tezuka, everything was ready.

"Echizen, release docking clamps and lay in a course Fuji. Set course at warp 6. Engage."

* * *

><p>"What have you done to my lady?"<p>

Echizen looked up from his carbonated drink to see the tall, violet eyed chief engineer standing in front of him. He was momentarily confused as to what he'd done to incite this until he remembered. The week before, he'd fiddled around with the input of the engines from his console, rearranging the crystal matrix into a helical structure as opposed to a linear one. It was a spur of the moment thing.

They had gotten back from a bad diplomatic contact and Momoshiro was in sickbay with Kawamura, having his broken arm treated. They needed to warp out quickly, so Echizen fiddled with the crystals, used an Aldean design to increase output.

He'd meant to change it back afterwards but forgotten. Until now.

"I can change it back if you'd like," he said mildly and watched Momoshiro's face. He didn't need his Betazoid blood to understand the emotions running through the engineer. He was torn between displeasure that someone else had fiddled with his lady and pleasure that she was running so much better now.

He was indecisive for a few minutes until-

"Show me how." And Echizen smirked.

* * *

><p>After that small tutorial, Echizen noticed that Momoshiro would pop up out of the proverbial woodwork whenever he was off duty to "talk". This translated to him teaching the engineer how to do his job properly. The Aldean half of him was scathing about the apparent deficits in Starfleet training. The Betazed half was grateful for the contact.<p>

But not even an encounter with the Borg would get him to admit that.

* * *

><p>The ship rocked from side to side as the shields took damage from the phaser cannons that maintained the heavy barrage of fire. The bridge was jerked about and Eiji even fell out of his chair with the inertia the blast caused. He quickly stood up again and leapt back over to the console, yelling out to the enemy, his consonants harsh and guttural as he ground out the "cease fire" order in Romulan. Tezuka wasn't sure how the situation devolved from the peaceful discussion he was having with the Romulan Commander into this but he was certain Fuji had something to do with it.<p>

He didn't know how but he had learnt that Fuji was nearly always behind the happenings on Seigaku.

"Shields at 60%" he heard Kaidoh say behind him and there was a responding call from Momoshiro in engineering. Before they could get into a fight over the comm, Tezuka demanded Momoshiro do something to get power up.

"I can divert power from the galley to give you an extra burst. Give me a few minutes without the deck shaking and I can get you enough power to jump to warp 7 by rerouting the dilithium crystals. Just stop the place shaking!"

"Echizen," Tezuka snapped.

"I can avoid the blasts, but you might want to hold on to something," the hybrid deadpanned, completely calm in the middle of the storm. His fingers were flying across the padd and suddenly, the Seigaku dropped as though falling through space. It glided underneath the attacking warbird and circled around so that the forward phaser cannons were aimed at the rear of the ship.

"I'm transmitting the co-ordinates of their engines to you now Kaidoh," Inui stated, "Fire there and we should disable their weapons for a few minutes until they can reroute."

"Fshuu," was the only response from the security chief but he fired anyway. There was a pause as the warbird lost phasers and, taking advantage of the lull in attack, Fuji found a course for them to take.

"If we can get the Seigaku into the asteroid field here, we can avoid any more hits until Momoshiro gets power back."

"Fine, give me the course. I'll do it with thrusters," Echizen growled.

They made it to the asteroid field by Echizen's extremely skilled handling of the ship. 'He is a fine pilot,' Oishi thought, pleased with the momentary rest from the action. He gave the bridge a quick scan, checking that the crew had no major injuries. Eiji looked a little bruised and both Fuji and Echizen were sporting bleeding head wounds from where one of the navigation consoles had exploded early in the melee. Other than that, they were dealing remarkably well with the fire fight.

"Ok, Captain," Momoshiro's voice came through the comms, like a siren call, "I can give you warp 7 for a few seconds but then the nacelles are going to burn out. Make good use of it."

"Fuji, plot the course. Echizen, prepare to warp," Tezuka barked and the two officers did as they were bade. They instantaneously warped away from the attacking vessel and, ten seconds later, they were in the midst of Federation space, safe and away from potential enemies.

And that was when the engines gave up. Echizen could almost hear Momoshiro from where he was sat repeating "No, no, no, no" over and over and he could see him in his head, grasping his tricorder and wielding his spanner like a weapon. Echizen had once seen Momoshiro throw the spanner at one of his subordinates when he was frustrated, so he could easily imagine the officers cowering in fear.

"Status reports everyone," Tezuka said and everybody tried to make sense of their sparking consoles to give a readout to the Captain.

"Captain, could it wait a few minutes?" Oishi asked, "Eiji, Fuji and Echizen should get down to Kawamura to get checked over."

Tezuka seemed to understand as he looked over his worse for wear crew. He dismissed the injured parties and asked for them to be replaced by the beta shift officers. Fuji and Eiji quickly abandoned their stations and headed for the turbo lift, knowing not to keep Kawamura waiting. Echizen needed a little more encouragement and had to be dragged to sickbay, the navigator and the linguist on each arm.

When they arrived in sickbay, they saw the after effects of their battle; the room was filled with the injured crewmen from all departments. Echizen recognised a few of the people from engineering and, happily, saw that at least two of them were sporting spanner injuries.

Compared to the rest of the alpha shift, Echizen had only met Kawamura once. He had been polite and kind, asking him about his standard medical values and reference ranges, but he was completely different now. He was shouting at his staff and yelling at his patients with gusto. He could be heard across the room, berating a poor red shirted ensign for wasting his time with such a "first aid problem" and told him to come back "when he had an injury that took a medical degree to treat."

Echizen preferred this Kawamura.

The three bridge staff sat on one of the spare beds and waited for Kawamura to become free. At the current moment in time, he was asking one of the security officers how they became injured.

"I was fine tuning the cannons to enable a higher output of energy in a wider burst-"

"Dammit man, I'm a doctor, not an engineer (4)! The basics!"

Echizen _liked_ this Kawamura.

* * *

><p>Almost two hours later, Echizen and the other two bridge crew were released from the clutches of the bipolar doctor. They were sat in the mess, relaxing after the battle. None of them were brave enough to attempt the replicators. After being switched off by Momoshiro for the supplementary power earlier, they seemed to have reset their default settings to Vulcan foods and no-one was in the mood to try plomeek soup.<p>

They did have drinks in front of them and were sat nursing them around the table; Fuji's being the only Earthian drink as Eiji was sipping something bright blue and Echizen was partaking of a drink that smelt distinctly alcoholic. Fuji refrained from making a comment about Echizen and ethanol being in the immediate vicinity of one another, having been present when an unfortunate red shirted ensign jokingly asked if the pilot was old enough to drink the Romulan ale that was in front of him.

Echizen had proceeded to inform the man that his Aldean physiology meant that he was much smaller physically, that he was very capable of handling alcohol and would he mind keeping his nose out of his business?

There was a vicious addition that although he was small, his brain wasn't and next time, the ensign should talk to something on his IQ level. Such as a Cardassian fungal spore.

Fuji _liked_ Echizen. And for any that knew Fuji, it was debateable whether this was a good thing or not.

They made a curious trio: an Orion, a human and a hybrid. It sounded like the beginning to a really bad joke, usually heard in Quark's bar on Deep Space Nine. They were also bandaged and a little bloodied and rough around the edges. Needless to say, they drew attention and it wasn't all good.

"God, I can't even get a drink without being surrounded by aliens," they heard the loud exclamation over the buzzing voices of the rest of the mess hall. As soon as the words had left the inebriated lieutenant's mouth, the buzzing stopped and a disbelieving silence permeated the room. Echizen could pick up on some of the stray thoughts of the others and the general consensus was "What?"

The unfortunate lieutenant continued to rant, oblivious to the silence of the room and the scared faces of table companions as they furiously tried to get him to stop. "Not only do they take over our ship but they take most of the bridge positions. They're probably waiting for us to drop our guard and then they'll attack."

And then, he nailed his coffin deeper. "The ones I hate the most? That Orion and the hybrid. Have you seen the way the Orion hangs off the Commander all the time? Probably trying to get into his bed; after all, that's all Orions are good for. And the hybrid is creepy. Just plain creepy when he stares; like he can see inside you."

Fuji could see the reactions of the entire mess but his attention was mostly on his table companions. Echizen's face had remained in its stoic mask but Eiji's face had fallen, his expressive eyes filling with tears. Fuji was livid. He began to stand to give the culprit a piece of his mind but, before he could rise, he was passed by a furious hybrid.

"Cadet Sasabe, was it?" Echizen purred, his voice barely above a whisper yet still reverberating around the silent mess. The lieutenant in question turned and finally noticed several things. The noiseless crowd, the shocked faces and the large, irate eyes of the aforementioned hybrid.

"Let me make a few things clear to you. You are a human. You are from a small planet, in a small galaxy, in one corner of the universe. There are other life forms out there. Get over it. In the grand scheme of things, amongst all the other planets and stars, you are very insignificant.

"If you cannot handle interacting with alien life, then you should find a new career because Starfleet is not for you. And I shall be reporting the slanderous comment about Lieutenant Kikumaru, who is one of the best linguists I have ever met.

"Be forewarned, there will be disciplinary action. Now go." The previously brave lieutenant ran from the mess hall as quickly as he could, no doubt to try and formulate a way to get back at Echizen, but the pilot didn't care. He walked back to his seat and resumed his drink as the hall gradually regained its previous noise level.

Nothing was exchanged between their table barring a quiet "Thanks Echizen" from Eiji. The pilot smirked and downed his drink.

He was accepted by those he liked and that's all that mattered.

* * *

><p>(1) Is it sad that I didn't even need to go and look that up? I spent a lot of my childhood watching re-runs of ST. I blame Dad and Sky One.<p>

(2) Being an army brat, I get a bit annoyed when people try to use the 24hour clock and fail miserably. There are a few points to note: 1. there is no am or pm with the 24hour clock. 2. There is no colon in the middle of the time. 3. There is no such thing as "2200 hours in the morning". End of my rant.

(3) I'm really showing my geekiness here, aren't I? Rentax is the substance used in Star Trek to resolve the need for glasses.

(4) Had to be done. Sorry. DeForest Kelley was a legend.

* * *

><p>And this brings us to the end of Inspiring the Creation. Many thanks to everyone for reading to the end and I hope these little one-shots entertained you for a few months.<p>

Now back to the Psi Gene ...

R&R

Bumble x


End file.
